Saving You
by ceruleanvixen
Summary: Elena is a disenchanted trophy wife, Damon is her new security detail... AU/AH, DELENA
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Alright so… I am currently writing another story called "Second Chances" which I will continue, but it's very angsty and so I needed an outlet for fun, fluffy, sexy Delena that was cramming my head and blocking my creative juices :) So I just had to write this down and get it out of my system. I guess I will be switching between these stories, depending on my mood :) I hope you like it. Let me know what you think._

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><p><strong>The first chapter in which a new man comes into our heroine's life<strong>

Elena awoke startled. The space around her was pitch black and completely still, but she could have sworn she had heard something. Something like glass shattering downstairs. But now everything was quiet. She was about to lie back down again, chalking it up to a bad dream, when she heard another sound. It was very faint, but this time she was sure she heard it. Glass crunching under the soles of someone's shoes. She held her breath in fear. Someone had broken a window, climbed in and was now sneaking through her home. She was sure of it. She turned around and looked at her husband's sleeping form. So typical that they would be burgled and he would just sleep through it. She wouldn't even be surprised if he was awake and just pretended to be asleep so he didn't have to go check. He could be such a coward. She turned under the blankets, as slowly as possible so as to not make a sound and pushed at his shoulder lightly.

"Mason," she whispered. He only let out a quick groan and brushed her hand off sleepily. "Mason," she said again, a bit louder but still whispering. Her heart was in her throat at the thought that the intruder might hear her and come upstairs. She did not trust her husband to defend her against dangerous criminals. "There's someone in the house," she elaborated, poking him again.

"What is it?" His voice was almost at normal speaking volume and Elena clamped her hand over his mouth frantically.

"Shhh!" She hissed at him. "There's someone in the house. I think someone broke in." The man lying next to her just looked at her like her words were confusing him. "You have to go look," she explained with an exasperated eye roll.

"Are you crazy?" He asked, thankfully speaking in hushed tones as well now. "If someone really did break in, I'm definitely not going down there. That's what we have security for."

"But you just hired that guy today!" Elena felt like yelling but was too afraid to raise her voice, so all that came out was a desperate whisper that was accompanied by a slight wheezing sound. "How do you know he's even capable?" She looked at him with wide eyes while he just rolled his at her in annoyance. "How do you know it's not one of his buddies? Maybe that was his plan when he accepted the job." She was now quite certain that she was in grave danger, not trusting the new security guard her husband had hired that same afternoon without even consulting her and also having great doubts her husband would be able to defend her should he have to. "Go look!" She demanded again.

With an exasperated sigh, Mason got out of bed and walked carefully towards the door. At that moment, Elena heard another sound from downstairs; as if someone had walked into a chair or another small piece of furniture, shoving it slightly. Elena let out a suppressed squeal of fright, clasping her hands over her mouth instantly. Mason shot around, telling her with a harsh look to be quiet. He then turned back towards the door and edged out into the hallway. Quietly, Elena swung her legs onto the floor and followed her husband on tiptoes.

When the pair reached the balustrade and Elena peeked over Mason's shoulder to try and make something out in the completely dark entrance hall downstairs, they were surprised by a sudden outbreak of commotion. Whereas it had been almost completely quiet until now, all hell broke loose in an instant. Elena heard rushing footsteps, furniture being pushed away and tumbling over, the low grunts of men fighting, something that was probably the impact of a fist on someone's face and finally something heavy falling down and then a piercing cry of agony. It was then that she couldn't hold back anymore and let out a shriek. Mason turned around at her and looked at her in disbelief. Just then the lights went on and the couple struggled with the sudden brightness. Mason was the first to turn back towards the staircase and let out a sigh of relief at what he saw had happened in his foyer. Elena edged closer behind his back and looked down, making out two figures at the bottom of the stairs, one lying on the floor, his arms bent painfully behind his back, the other leaning over him and holding him down. Had her husband not heaved that relieved sigh, she would not have been sure the right man had been captured, that's how much both of them intimidated her. True, one was wearing a ski mask, but to her, the other seemed just as dangerous. The sheer brute force he exuded, leaning over the man on the floor menacingly, his muscular arms holding the other pinned down in a death grip, the tousled, jet-black hair falling wildly over his eyes, thrilled her immensely. But the eyes that were now looking up at them were what frightened her the most. Albeit icily blue, they were filled with a fire that seemed uncontainable. They had an openly predatory gleam to them. He was magnificent. Magnificent the way a panther is magnificent. In that it is beautiful as much as it is terrifying. She liked looking at panthers behind bars at the zoo, but for the life of her she never wanted to come across one that was free. They were to be kept at a safe distance. And this man was to be kept at a safe distance as well. She didn't trust the wildness in him. Her husband, even though physically just as well built as the man in their foyer, was a coward at heart. She could deal with a coward. They were predictable and she liked predictable. The man at the bottom of her stairs seemed passionate and passionate meant unpredictable and she had made a habit of excluding such people from her life. She hated surprises; she hated to be taken off guard, so for the most part she had eliminated the chances of that happening.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you, Sir," the man finally said, "Ma'am," he added, almost as an afterthought. He spoke without a strain in his voice, almost nonchalantly, as if he was not pinning a criminal to the ground.

"By all means, I'm glad I woke up to see this," Mason returned with a wide smile and a hint of admiration in his voice. The man at the bottom of the stairs smirked lightly, Elena thought almost dismissively, and took a step back, hoisting the overwhelmed intruder up by his wrists.

"Well, in any case you can go back to bed reassured. I will take care of this." And with that he turned the other man around abruptly and started walking him out of the room, before turning around again, now looking up at Elena. "It was a pleasure to finally meet you, too, Mrs. Lockwood." He said, smiling at her courteously.

"Likewise," she answered and then stopped hesitantly, having no idea what this man's name was.

"Salvatore," he supplied with a quick smile and turned back around, marching out of the room.

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><p>The next day, Elena was sitting in her elaborate kitchen, waiting for her sister in law. Elena loved spending time in the kitchen. In the three years she and her husband had lived here, she had of course never touched a single appliance, but she thought the room had a homely feel to it and she liked looking at the shiny surfaces. Maria did a wonderful job of keeping everything nice and clean. Plus, they had a great chef. Elena loved the idea of freshly cooked food, she loved to taste the dishes François prepared for them and she loved to be in the place where all that magic happened.<p>

As soon as Vicki got to the house, however, the two women went strolling through the grand gardens of the elder Lockwood's estate. This was because Vicki, for her part, avoided spending any time in the kitchen at all. All it did was reminding her that there were chores to be taken care of, should she choose to do so, which of course she never did. Elena didn't particularly like Vicki, but her daily walks with her were better than being bored. With the nanny taking care of her kids, the maid taking care of her chores and her husband being off feeling important all day long, Elena had little to occupy her time. Plus, Vicki was very entertaining. The biggest gossip in the world.

She had gotten Mason's brother Tyler to marry her by feigning mental deficiencies (not being able to remember to take her birth control) and consequentially ending up with child. Tyler, being the noble young man he was (to everyone's surprise), had angered his parents immensely and asked for her hand in marriage. They led the most awkward marriage Elena had ever seen anyone lead and she sometimes wondered how it was even possible that these two were still together. But so far neither of them had killed the other and in Elena's mind that certainly had to count as somewhat of a success.

"Tell me everything!" Vicki now said, referring to having just received the news that Elena and Mason had seemingly barely escaped being made the victims of a horrible crime.

"Oh my, it was horrid!" Elena exclaimed. In truth, she had pretty much gotten over the events of the previous night, but she knew her sister in law lived for drama and she enjoyed having her drink in every single word. "I woke up because I heard him break a window."

Vicki covered her mouth with her hand in shock. Elena nodded, confirming the notion that it was all really quite shocking. "I was scared for my life," she said with insistence.

"Of course," the other woman agreed.

"Mason went to check, I was so scared but you know him, he has to be my knight in shining armor." Vicki nodded in agreement. Elena wasn't sure why, but she always felt like she had to build her husband up in front of other people.

"And then suddenly there was all this commotion. I don't even know what happened exactly. But when the lights finally came on, our new security guard had taken the intruder down. He was like pinning him to the floor. It was all very intense."

Vicki nodded her head in understanding. Then her concerned expression turned into a complicit smirk. "Also kinda hot though," she said, winking at Elena.

Elena feigned utter shock. "Vicki!" She exclaimed. "I was afraid for my life!"

"Oh come on, admit it," the other woman said in a playful tone. "A strong man, protecting you from evil criminals… kinda hot."

Elena shook her head in seeming disbelief. "You are the worst, Vicki Lockwood." But she couldn't help the smile that crept onto her face. At that moment the two women rounded the corner of a hedge and came face to face with the protector they had been talking about. He had apparently picked this rather secluded spot for his afternoon workout. He hadn't noticed the two women yet, but they couldn't help staring at him, wearing nothing but sweat pants, his skin glistening from a slight sheen of sweat caused by the physical exertion, his muscles rippling with every move he made. Elena didn't even know what he was doing, but it looked like some kind of slow motion martial arts. Or like a routine he had designed specifically to showcase his incredible body, looking at his slow but forceful movements, that explanation seemed just as likely. Vicki was the first to regain control over her vocal chords.

"Who is that?" She whispered.

"That's him," Elena answered in an equally hushed tone.

"That's your security guy?" Vicki looked at Elena with wide eyes. The latter only nodded. "You're telling me that fine specimen over there saved your life and you didn't take him right then and there?" Vicki stared at her as in disbelief.

Elena couldn't help a chuckle leaving her throat. "Why must you always be so crass?" She asked, shaking her head. "Plus, I am a happily married woman. I don't screw the help." She waved her hand dismissively.

"He is not 'the help'," Vicki quoted sarcastically with her fingers. "He is every woman's phantasy."

Elena rolled her eyes. "I guess there is no point in pointing out to you that you are also married."

"I can still look and appreciate," the other woman replied.

"By all means, feel free to look and appreciate away," Elena answered, starting to turn around to walk back to the house, but being startled in her movement.

"Good afternoon, ladies," she heard his velvety voice drawl from across the clearing. She heaved a heavy sigh. She had hoped to be able to sneak away without being noticed, but apparently this was not the case.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Salvatore. Sorry to interrupt," she said curtly.

"No, please, I'm sorry. I thought I wouldn't be in anybody's way back here," he replied, throwing the two women a boyish grin that could actually be interpreted as somewhat embarrassed at being caught. He grabbed a towel lying on the ground and started to wipe at the back of his neck. Elena could hear the intake of breath from Vicki.

"Oh no, you're definitely not in our way," Vicki answered, her voice now heavily laced with a flirtatious undertone. "Please, don't let us stop you from… doing what you have to do." Damon chuckled, obviously picking up on Vicki's real intentions. Elena flushed and wished she could disappear in the ground. Her sister in law had no sense of propriety. "It's good to know that you… keep yourself in shape. Makes a girl feel safe." She threw him a wide smile.

"So you also fall amongst the people I am supposed to protect, I gather?"

"I do. I am Vicki." She extended her hand to him.

"Mr. Tyler's wife. Yes. Very glad to finally meet you," he answered, shaking her hand quickly. "Well excuse me ladies, I feel I must make myself a little more presentable." He smiled a dazzling smile at them and walked away.

When he was out of earshot, Vicki spoke again, her words directed at Elena, but her eyes still lingering on the retreating form: "Well, if you won't, I will."

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><p><em>AN: Here it is, my first chapter for this one. Not that much fluffy Delena stuff yet, but it will happen, don't you worry :) I think I'm actually better with writing angsty stories, this is first attempt at a fun one, so please let me know if you like it or if I'm failing miserably :) All reviews or messages are greatly appreciated! Bye for now…_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Oooohh, an update! Yes, I have finally figured out what to do with this story, so it will now definitely be continued and I'm actually getting excited about it. Also, with the way the show's going, I needed to work on this a little in order to feed my need for Delena fluffiness ;) Alright, hope you enjoy it._

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><p><strong>The second chapter, in which a princess falls in love with a cook<strong>

The doorbell rang and Elena bounded down the staircase to answer it. She was waiting for Vicky who was, not surprisingly, unfashionably late and so she didn't stop to look at the security screen before opening the heavy wooden doors. To her surprise she wasn't met by Vicky's wide smile but by that of a shorter girl with dark skin and green eyes, who was wearing a sorry excuse for a shirt (it looked more like a bra to Elena) and too tight, low-cut pants, leaving her toned midriff bare. Elena frowned at the half-naked stranger.

"Yes?" she asked, eyeing the girl up and down.

"Is Damon here?" the girl returned, not seeming perturbed in the slightest.

"And you are?" Elena demanded. To be honest she had no idea where Damon was, he was a master at keeping out of sight. In the few days he had been with them, she had only seen him a very few times, and never for very long. "He's like your own personal Ninja," Vicki had said and Elena had to agree that that was kind of the case. You never saw him, but she was sure that he'd be there in an instant, should he be needed.

"Bonnie!" She heard his voice exclaim happily from behind her, appearing out of nowhere as usual. "You're early," he stated.

"Yes, my last client was done sooner than I expected," the girl replied, smiling at him widely.

"Well that's just perfect," he returned, his voice heavy with innuendo. "I can't wait to feel your hands on me." Elena turned to him and stared in utter shock. This man had invited a prostitute to her house. And he was being callous about it. Elena turned her wide eyes back to the woman standing in her doorway. The duffle bag she carried on her shoulder was undoubtedly filled with all sorts of nasty toys. Elena couldn't believe this was happening.

"I will make you sweat for me first," the girl answered him with a wink, not acknowledging Elena's presence in the slightest.

"Follow me," he said and turned around to lead his 'guest' away, most likely to his room. Elena couldn't help but gape at the pair. She was in shock and horrified at what they were planning on doing under her roof.

"Uhm… excuse me, Mr. Salvatore?" She finally spoke meekly, catching his attention before he could leave the foyer. He turned around and threw her a bemused smile. "Do you have a minute?" she asked, her voice now stronger and more demanding.

"Of course," he answered. "Just go ahead Bonnie, I'll be right there." The other woman smiled and disappeared through the door. "How can I help you?" He asked, walking up to Elena with a smirk that told her he knew exactly what she wanted to talk to him about.

"Well I…" she started. She was flustered, not knowing how to go about this conversation. She couldn't believe he was making her have it with him. How dare he put her in such an uncomfortable position?

"Yes?" he drawled, clearly enjoying putting her ill at ease.

"I just… wanted you to know that I do not appreciate you having… guests over." She stammered.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he replied. "I wasn't aware. In my contract it doesn't state that I can't entertain company. And I actually asked Mr. Lockwood if Bonnie could come over and he said it was no problem." He looked at her with a willfully innocent expression.

"Mason said it was okay?" Elena asked, befuddled. He just nodded. "Well, I'm sure there's a misunderstanding," she soldiered on. "I mean, you are working. This is… inappropriate."

"Why? She is also working. We'll be… working together," he smiled at her triumphantly.

Elena stared at him in disbelief. "Alright," she mustered up all her courage. "Let me be clearer… I do not want women like her in my house."

"Women like her?" Damon looked at her in mock shock and then lowered his voice to a mere whisper. "Do you have a problem with her skin color, Mrs. Lockwood?" Elena flushed bright red at the horrid insinuation. She wanted to slap him but didn't dare. She knew he could physically overpower her without even trying and she didn't trust him enough to test his patience.

"Of course not!" she exclaimed. "How dare you… I donate money to that school that Madonna built in Africa!" He couldn't hold back the amused smile spreading across his face. "I voted for Obama!" She exclaimed and now he was right-out laughing. Elena grew even angrier but decided to take the high road. He was in the wrong here; making her uncomfortable was only his way of trying to get out of this without being fired. She composed herself again and spoke with a more level voice. "No I meant women of the… carnal profession."

Damon couldn't hold back anymore and felt a single tear forming in the corner of his eye, pressed out from his laughing so hard. He took a few deep breaths to regain his composure. Elena looked at him with pure hatred in her eyes. "The 'carnal profession'," he stated with a teasing smile. "Well, I've never heard it called that before."

"Well whatever you want to call it," she said dismissively.

"Well, I would call it being a personal trainer," he said with a smirk, gleefully waiting for her reaction.

Elena stared at him for what seemed to be a very long time. "Excuse me?" she finally managed to ask.

"She is my personal trainer," he answered, raising the voice at the end of the sentence the way teenagers do when relaying facts that should have been obvious to everyone. "We have sessions every Monday and Friday. But if it makes you uncomfortable, I will of course meet her at the gym…"

Elena still hadn't recovered. "But… the… you said with… her hands on you…" she stammered.

"Oh, that… well, she is a masseuse as well. And a really good one, too. I think she has magical hands," he added in a soft voice. "If you want, I'll ask her to give you a massage as well. Work all that tension out of you. I'm sure she'd be happy to."

"No thank you," Elena answered with a small voice.

"Alright. Well, I better get going," Damon said smiling. "I have to get started on that 'carnal' workout I've heard so much about." And with a wink he was gone.

Elena stood in the foyer, unable to move from the shock. The longer she stood there, the angrier she got. He had played and humiliated her. Who did he think he was, letting her make false assumptions and not clearing them up right away, leaving her in a very uncomfortable and awkward position? She was seething, when she heard the doorbell ring again. With a few quick steps she stood at the door and pulled it open again, meeting the visitor with an angry expression on her face.

"Elena!" Vicki called, smiling widely. Then she registered the look on her sister in law's face. "What's wrong?" she asked, taking off the huge sunglasses that were covering up her hung over eyes.

"Ugh, nothing!" Elena fumed. "Just that security guy is unbelievable!"

"Yes, unbelievably sexy," the other woman said with a wink. Elena just shook her head and the two headed up the stairs since Vicki had come over today to go through Elena's closet with her, helping her pick out old clothes to give to charity. When they passed the upstairs hallway-window looking out over the backyard, Elena heard her friend exclaim: "Oh my lord! Is this man ever not working out?"

When Elena turned around at this, she saw the other woman glued to the window glass. Outside, Damon was training with the girl Elena had met only moments ago. She had to admit that the short shirt was quite obviously a sports bra. Also, she had never before seen a prostitute in sneakers. Come to think of it, Elena had no idea why she had ever thought it in the first place. She only grew more embarrassed. The pair in the backyard were training hard, both concentrated on the session, nothing of the flirty banter that had made Elena think the woman was here for something else. The trainer was short and slim, but obviously very fit. Her arms and legs seemed to be made up of pure muscle. She held up two sparring pads and circled Damon, who was wearing sweat pants, boxing gloves and nothing else.

"And always with the being shirtless…" Vicki pseudo complained. "How are you not constantly sexually frustrated?" she asked in disbelief.

"His being an ass helps," Elena retorted, earning nothing but an annoyed huff from her friend.

She had to admit, he was sexy. His skin glistened in the afternoon sun; every single one of his fast movements was precise and forceful. The muscles in his back tightened and released quickly as his arm shot forward, meeting the red cushions held up by his sparring partner. Suddenly he leaned back slightly and then propelled himself up in the air, executing a roundhouse-kick only inches from the woman's face. Elena couldn't help but marvel at the precision and the power she could sense even from this far away. His leg high in the air, completely straight, his eyes never leaving his target. She was sure he could probably kill with his bare hands. She saw his trainer flinch at the proximity of his foot and stumble backwards. After landing securely, he started laughing and extended his hand to the woman who had tumbled to the ground, helping her back up while she was seemingly yelling at him. But Elena could tell they were both laughing.

"Show-off," she huffed.

"He could pretend-kick me anytime," Vicki purred.

"God, woman, get a grip!" Elena laughed.

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><p>The women spent the afternoon in Elena's dressing room, going through her old clothes and gossiping about the other ladies on the town's Founders Council, until Elena's phone began to ring as the sun started to set. It was Mason. Elena sighed. If her husband called now that meant that he would not be home in time for dinner.<p>

"Long day at work?" she asked by way of a greeting.

"Yes pumpkin, I'm so sorry." Elena cringed at the nickname. She had never been able to make him stop calling her that. "Can you do me a favor?" he asked.

"Sure, what do you need?" Elena asked, ever the understanding wife.

"I forgot a document in my office. Could you fax me a copy?" Elena sighed, excused herself to Vicki and wandered down the stairs into her husband's office. "It's the one in the blue folder on my desk." Elena grabbed the papers and fed them to the fax machine on her husband's desk.

"Mason, you know that François has tonight off. You were supposed to bring dinner from that vegan restaurant. I don't want Jenna and Jeremy to grow up on take-out."

"I know pumpkin and I'm really so sorry. It's just tonight I really can't. Just order a salad or something." Elena was too used to these conversations to get annoyed.

"Fine," she huffed.

"I got the fax, thank you. I'll see you later."

"Okay. Oh, by the way," Elena added, "from now on I want to be involved in the hiring. No more you deciding on who works for us without consulting me."

"Sure sure," came the hurried reply. It was obvious Mason had things to do that he deemed more important. "I'll see you later."

They hung up and Elena left the office, heading back towards the staircase to join Vicki in her room.

"Mrs. Lockwood?" came his velvety voice from right behind her. Her breath caught in her throat. Was this man everywhere?

"Yes?" She turned around, her arms crossed over her chest, her chin stuck out defiantly.

He smiled at her, taking another step in her direction, encroaching on her personal space. "I wanted to apologize. For earlier today. It was not my intention to make you uncomfortable."

"Yes it was," she replied. His smile widened in acknowledgement of her sass.

"Alright, yes it was," he admitted with a smirk. "But I only tease because I know you can take it." He winked at her.

"Well, whether I can take it or not, it is still extremely bad manners," she scolded.

He looked at her for a second, a glint in his eyes that Elena couldn't place. "You are right," he finally conceded, apparently deciding against fighting her. "And again, I am sorry."

Elena considered his apology for a while before adding: "It is also very bad manners to eavesdrop."

"Well, it's not eavesdropping when someone speaks on the phone loudly with the door open and you happen to hear them as you pass by… perchance, if you will." He grinned cockily.

"You just have a smart reply to everything, don't you?" She questioned, hoping she sounded thoroughly annoyed.

"Pretty much, yes." He kept the smug grin in place. Elena sighed and turned around, walking back up the stairs. "Oh Mrs. Lockwood?" he called after her.

"Yes, Mr. Salvatore?"

"I also couldn't help but hear about your dinner situation tonight."

"Yes?" She furrowed her brows.

"If you want to, I can cook," he offered.

"You cook?" she asked in disbelief.

"I'm Italian," came his nonchalant reply.

"Is that supposed to be an answer to my question?" she asked haughtily.

He chuckled slightly, a warm, friendly sound, none of the usual snark left in his voice. "It is. I promise, I can beat your take-out menu any time."

Elena considered his offer for only a second. "Alright, you may wow us with your culinary expertise," she replied, smiling as well, before turning around and walking back up the stairs.

"And he cooks, too," she said after making sure she closed the door to her room behind her.

"Hm?" Vicki looked up from a magazine she was leafing through.

"The security guy. He is cooking us dinner," Elena elaborated.

"No!" Vicki dropped the magazine to her knees. "This is getting ridiculous! Are you sure he is human?" the woman questioned.

"We will never know for sure," Elena jokingly replied.

"Alright, well, I am definitely having dinner with you tonight!" Elena only laughed.

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><p>The next time the women were disturbed by a ringing phone it was Vicki's. Tyler apparently had to work late as well. Vicki listened to her husband's explanation, rolled her eyes for Elena's benefit and then launched into a stream of more and less plausible accusations about how he was always working late and definitely having an affair and how she hoped his secretary (who was undoubtedly the other woman) gave him crabs and how he better not dare to sleep with her and pass the nasty disease on to her. Elena blushed furiously and walked out of the room quickly. Exiled by her friend's utter lack of a sense of propriety. Yet again. It wasn't like this was the first time the couple was having this exact same argument. She shook her head and went down the stairs to check on dinner. When she entered the dining room that was connected to the kitchen, she was startled by the sound of her children's voices. At this time of the day they were supposed to be in their room with their nanny, doing math problems disguised as funny stories to further their academic aptitude. She shook her head in disapproval but stopped just outside the door and spied around the corner to see what was going on. The man in charge of her protection was standing by the stove, wearing casual jeans and a black long-sleeve, a green-checkered towel haphazardly thrown over his shoulder. Her nanny was sitting at the kitchen console with her son, supervising his work of cutting cherry-tomatoes and her daughter was standing next to the impromptu chef, pushed up on her toes to see what he was doing on the stove.<p>

"Miss sous-chef, would you hand me the pomodori please?" he asked, smiling down and the strawberry-blonde girl that was looking at him with admiration. Elena saw her daughter turn around and eagerly sprint to the center-console in the middle of the room where her brother was diligently working on the last remaining tomatoes.

"Jeremy, I need the pomodori!" she exclaimed and Elena couldn't help the smile that spread over her face at her daughter's enthusiasm.

"I'll take them myself!" her son replied with determination, grabbing the bowl with the diced tomatoes and climbing laboriously down the barstool he had been sitting on.

"But Damon told ME to get them!" the girl protested furiously.

"No arguing in the kitchen!" Damon said authoritatively but with a warm tone to his voice. "The kitchen is a place of family and harmony. And also a place of sharp objects. So we don't fight in the kitchen, got it?" The two children nodded their heads eagerly. "Alright then. Who wants to help me season the veal?" Two hands shot up immediately and Damon chuckled lightly, throwing a look in the direction of the nanny who was equally giggling in her seat. "How about one of you helps me with the veal and the other helps Miss Caroline with the salad? She's much prettier anyways."

"No, she's not," Elena heard her daughter say quietly, a serious expression on her face.

"I will make the salad with Miss Caroline!" her son exclaimed. "I think she is much prettier than you!" And with those words he marched off, joining his nanny at the kitchen table.

Damon let out a hearty laugh. "Aren't you a charmer!" he called after the little boy who was struggling to climb back on the barstool. "Alright Princess Jenna, looks like I will be teaching you the fine art of seasoning." The girl looked at him with elation and he picked her up and positioned her on his hip, holding her securely in place with his right arm while he reached for the big pepper mill with his free hand, handing it to her. On a tray he had laid out several filets and he was now holding the girl over these while she used all the strength in her little arms to twist the top of the oversized pepper mill. Caroline and Jeremy were slicing more vegetables for the salad, quietly discussing the book the nanny had been reading to the children for the past week.

"Are you married, Damon?" Jenna asked, still concentrating on the peppermill in her hands.

"No, I am not," he answered with a bit of amusement in his voice. "Are you?"

"No. But if you want to you can marry me," the girl replied earnestly, handing the mill back to him.

"How about we wait until you're old enough to get married and then if you still want to marry me, we'll talk again?" he suggested, putting the pepper back in its place and reaching for another spice.

"Alright," Jenna conceded with a smile.

Elena looked at the scene before her and a sudden inexplicable sadness fell over her. She loved her children dearly, but she had never been able to build up an easy rapport with them the way Caroline and apparently even Damon could. She knew she wasn't a good mother, mainly because Mason had made sure to tell her that before their children were even born. "It doesn't matter," he had said. "It's okay if you care more about your charity work and your social commitments. That's who you are. And I love you just the way you are," he had assured her, placing a fatherly kiss on her forehead. She had always told herself that it was better for her kids if she stayed away, if she let professionals handle their upbringing and education. She had never felt ready and had only gotten pregnant because Mason had wanted children. She loved the little whirlwinds, but to be quite honest she didn't know them very well. She had always thought that that was probably normal. Had figured that adults in general had a hard time connecting with children and that people who had the ability to understand them had to have had elaborate training, like her nanny Caroline. Watching the disdain with which her friends Vicki, Dana or Aimee regarded any kids they came across in the streets had reinforced her belief. She had been sure that the special relationship she had had with her parents had been a rare thing but she couldn't remember them well enough to figure out how their rapport with her had been so natural when she felt constantly intimidated by her own children's presence, their questions and their fragility. But the way Damon, this dangerous man that she herself was intimidated by, handled them and formed an instant connection with them made her doubt her previous convictions and she wondered if there was indeed something wrong with her, if maybe she simply was a bad mother. Damon's voice ripped her from her musings.

"Good job!" he complimented the girl on his arm who was now sporting a proud smile. "Your mommy will be so proud of you."

Elena used this moment to gather her courage and slowly saunter into the kitchen, clearing her throat to make her presence known.

"Mommy!" her son exclaimed, climbing off the high stool again and running up to her. She got this reaction from him every time; he was still at the age where even bad mothers were loved infinitely and unquestioningly and she was thankful for it. She opened her arms and gathered him up into a hug, letting him throw his legs around her waist and cling to her with a big grin. "I cut the pomori in quarters!" he stated proudly.

"Did you?" Elena said, smiling at him.

"It's pomodori!" Jenna corrected her brother.

"I cut the pomodori in quarters," he repeated indignantly. "Do you know why they're called quarters, mommy?"

"Tell me," she said, slowly walking up to the stove to inspect the meal being prepared.

"Because I cut them in four pieces and four in Latinian is called quartis and so every one of the four pieces is a quarter. Right, Miss Caroline?" he looked to his nanny for approval.

"Close enough," the blonde woman said with a wide smile and a wink.

"So you're learning Latin now?" his mother asked, raising an eyebrow.

"And Italian!" he exclaimed with a nod of the head.

"Is that right?" she said with a smile, throwing a look in the direction of her security guard who was eyeing her carefully, probably trying to figure out if he had again overstepped any boundaries. "And what did Mr. Salvatore teach you?"

"Ciao bella!" her son exclaimed, before blowing her a kiss and smiling widely. She looked at him with wide eyes and then turned her shocked expression to the man standing by the stove and chuckling to himself.

"This is the first thing you teach my son?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No, the first thing I taught him was 'pomodoro'. That was the second thing," he replied with a self-assured smile and a wink in her direction.

Elena swallowed down her comeback. She would have to talk to him about this at a later time. As she would have to talk to Caroline about abandoning the math lessons. But she never argued in front of her kids, this much she had learned from reading books on parenting.

"Mommy, Damon is teaching me how to season the meat," Jenna said with a small smile, sensing her mother's annoyance. "And he says I'm a princess," she added with a bigger smile.

"Well, Mr. Salvatore" Elena stressed his last name, wanting her kids to refer to their employees by their last names as was proper, "certainly knows that princesses don't cook for themselves." Jenna's face fell and for a second Elena regretted her comment. But then she only got more annoyed with the man holding her daughter. He was not supposed to make her children do chores.

"Alright kids, let's go upstairs and finish our fun stories before dinner, alright?" Caroline interrupted, sensing the thick atmosphere. Damon sighed and put Jenna down on the floor without taking his disapproving eyes off Elena's face. The children were smart enough to leave the room, hoping their mother would calm down by the time dinner was ready and so they shuffled out of the door behind their nanny.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Damon spoke: "You really are determined to suck the fun out of everything, aren't you?" he said in a scolding tone.

"Excuse me? My children are not kitchen help." Elena retorted.

"Neither am I," he said in a quiet but intimidating voice, taking a step closer to her, leaning over her menacingly.

"I didn't ask you to cook. You offered." Elena pointed out.

"Just because you don't have to cook it doesn't mean you shouldn't." He then decided on a different approach and his facial expression changed from dark to challenging. "It's about the sensual and communal experience. Cooking with the whole family, smelling the spices, tasting the fresh produce," he held a cherry probably intended for dessert up to Elena's lips. She only glared at him in return. Suddenly realization flicked across his face. "You haven't cooked a day in your life, have you?" he asked, almost in disbelief.

Elena hesitated for a moment before answering: "No, and I don't…" But Damon didn't let her finish.

"Oh, you're in for such a treat," he said with a smile she could only interpret as gleeful. "I was going to show Jenna how to season the sauce with fresh herbs, but now you'll get the pleasure of being taught."

"I really d…" Elena started to protest but was interrupted again.

"Mrs. Lockwood?" her nanny's shaky voice came from the doorway. Elena turned around, embarrassed at the position her employee had found her in. Her embarrassment changed into worry the minute she caught sight of the woman's face, however. The blonde in front of her was pale and looked visibly shaken.

"What is it, Miss Forbes?" she asked, her dispute with the man standing next to her suddenly the last thing on her mind.

"I found this in the children's room," the woman said, holding up a folded piece of paper.

Elena took the paper and unfolded it, scanning the computer written lines with her eyes, before feeling her knees buckle under her slightly.

NOW YOU KNOW WE CAN GET IN.

IF YOU WANT TO PROTECT YOUR FAMILY, WIRE 5 MILLION DOLLARS TO THE FOLLOWING BANK ACCOUNT:

Elena felt her legs give out and she tried to grab the counter top to steady herself. Before she could drop to the ground, however, she was held up by a strong arm encircling her waist and stabilizing her suddenly fragile body.

"What's going on?" the security guard holding her asked. Elena only held up her hand that was clutching the fatal paper, too weak to speak. Without letting go of her, he read the note quickly. He then dropped the paper wordlessly onto the kitchen console, bent slightly in the knees and picked the woman up from the ground, holding her in stable arms. Elena had never felt this way before. Her entire body was numb. She felt like she wasn't able to move a single muscle in her body. She wanted to cry, wanted to do something useful, wanted to call her husband, wanted to rush up the stairs and check on her children, but she couldn't do either of those things. She could only let this man carry her out of the kitchen and into the parlor and let him put her down on one of the sofas. She started shaking now. She figured that she was probably in shock, but still the utter loss of control over her body scared her. Damon lifted her feet up, resting them on a pile of pillows, before pulling a woolen blanket over her shivering body. She looked at him with pleading eyes and he looked right back at her, his blue eyes reflecting the strength and determination that she couldn't feel in her own body right now and that did wonders to reassure her.

"Miss Forbes, could you prepare Mrs. Lockwood a cup of tea and get her some water please?" he said in a surprisingly calm voice. The blonde woman was visibly in need of comfort as well but nodded, glad she had a purpose now and headed for the kitchen. Damon headed up the stairs and came back with Jenna on his arm and Jeremy on his other hand only moments later. The children looked confused but thankfully not scared. The minute Jeremy saw his mother lying on the couch he started gunning for her and jumped up on the sofa, cuddling up next to her.

"What's wrong mommy?"

"Nothing," she simply said, not knowing how to reassure him, feeling so unsure herself. So she just held him close and pressed a kiss to his hair. Damon put Jenna down and Elena held out her hand, signaling for her daughter to join her on the couch. The little girl hesitated only a second before jumping up next to her brother.

"Are you okay, mommy?" she asked.

"Yes, of course," she replied, trying to sound as unconcerned as possible. "I only had a little fright. But now you guys are here so I'm perfect." She forced a little smile on her face.

Damon fished his phone from his pocket and dialed, waiting for the other end of the line to pick up. "Mr. Lockwood, I'm sorry but you need to come home right away, please," he stated politely but firmly. "No, I'm afraid you really need to come home this instant." Elena could tell her husband was reluctant but when the security guard hung up the phone he gave her a reassuring smile. "You're husband's on his way," he stated, before heading out of the room to call the police.

Caroline came back into the living room, handing Elena a glass of water and a cup of tea. Now that she had gotten over the first shock, Elena felt better. She smiled thankfully at her nanny and sat up to take the steaming cup from her hands. In that moment she heard Vicki enter the parlor, heaving a heavy sigh while clicking her cell phone shut.

"Really, that man! I don't know why I put up with him," she stated in exasperation, plopping down on an armchair opposite Elena. The whole room was quiet and she looked around, taking a few moments to realize that no one was going to ask her to elaborate. This led her to the assumption that something had to be the matter. "What's going on?" she asked, now somewhat concerned.

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><p><em>AN: And so the plot thickens. Haha. Alright, I know it took a long time for me to update and that's because I'm really into my other story "Second Chances" right now, but I got such sweet and nice reviews on this one that it inspired me to take a break from that story and work on this one for a bit. So you see what power you have ;) Please let me know if you liked it (or if you didn't. I only learn if you tell me what I'm doing wrong). Love to the world, Dawn_


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Whoah! An update! I know right! I feel so horrible for only updating this story so sporadically, but like I said, my focus is on "Second Chances" atm. I really do appreciate all the reviews and subscriptions though. They make me incredibly happy and are the reason why I felt inspired for this, so here you go :) Already working on the next chapter, too. Please please let me know what you think._

_P.S. I obviously don't own TVD or any of the characters._

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><p><strong>The third chapter, in which our heroine doesn't know what hit her<strong>

Mason was pacing, talking to his accountant on the phone. Damon was talking to two detectives. They were trying to figure out how someone could have gotten onto the premises unnoticed. Turns out, it wasn't as difficult as you would have guessed. Employees frequently had friends over (or pizza delivered) without clearing them through security or even announcing them. The back entrance, where no guard was positioned, was closer to the highway and therefore many people entered through there, without anyone noticing. After the break-in, Damon had already talked to Mason about the lack of video surveillance but the latter had not gotten around to doing anything about it yet. All in all it was impossible to actually be sure how many people had been on the estate during this day, especially since if someone climbed the stretch of wall that was engulfed by a small grove at the back of the large estate, they would most likely never get noticed. Damon again stressed the importance of video surveillance, especially for those parts of the property that weren't visible from the main house and Mason kept nodding his head, not convincing anyone that he would take speedy action in the matter. Elena was sitting on the couch, watching the men take charge. Caroline had fed the children and taken them to bed and was upstairs with them, reading them their bedtime story. Vicki was still seated opposite Elena, working herself into a frenzy over what might have happened to her.

"I was up there by myself when he must have come in!" she exclaimed, looking at Elena with wide eyes. "I was in your room, just down the hall! Oh my god! He could have killed me! It's a miracle I'm still alive." Elena only nodded tiredly, not feeling up to either feeding into or arguing against her friend's antics. Vicki saw that she would not get the desired reaction from her sister in law and turned around in search of a new target. "And you!" she finally yelled, setting her sight upon Damon and strutting up to him, her fists angrily pushed into her sides. "Where were you while I was almost strangled to death by some perverted burglar?"

"Excuse me?" Damon and the two detectives he had been talking to, turned around to the woman, all three obviously irritated.

"Were you attacked, ma'am?" one of the detectives asked, shocked that this had not been brought to his attention before. "Did you see the intruder?"

"No, but I was just down the hall. I could be dead and this one wouldn't even know. Aren't you supposed to protect me?" she glared at Damon.

"I'm the Lockwoods' bodyguard, not a 24-hour surveillance system," he answered indignantly.

"Yeah well, you might want to think about your priorities," she replied and turned on her heel without waiting for an answer, plopping back down on the armchair opposite Elena, shaking her head. Damon just stared after her with furrowed brows, in utter disbelief. Then he noticed Elena sitting on the sofa, staring at the floor in front of her apathetically and went over to crouch down in front of her.

"Mrs. Lockwood?" he asked concerned, ripping her out of her daze.

"Yes?" She looked up in surprise.

"Do you own a gun?"

"What? No! Of course not!" she exclaimed, looking at him in shock. "Why would I? I would never touch one of those vile things!"

He would have chuckled at her adorable look of indignation, if he hadn't been more concerned with her safety. "I'll get you pepper spray," he said decisively, moving to get up again.

"What am I going to do with _that_?" she asked, apparently horrified with the idea.

"Protect yourself," he answered.

"But that's what you're here for," came her reply. This time he couldn't suppress the chuckle.

"Well, obviously I can't be everywhere at the same time. Tonight is evidence of that."

"But that's what we're paying you for!"

Damon wanted to growl in annoyance at her deluded view of the world but held back. She was in shock, he told himself, she was scared and she demanded protection and it was obvious she wouldn't get that from her husband.

"It's just in case," he said in his 'reassuring voice', the one he knew made women feel safe. "So that in case there's ten of them, you can help me out and pepper-spray one why I wrestle down the other nine." He threw her his most winning smile.

"Is my safety a joke to you, Mr. Salvatore?" she asked haughtily. He sighed. It was obvious that she was hell-bent on shooting him down tonight.

"Caroline, could you help my wife go to bed?" he heard her husband's voice behind him.

"I don't want to go to bed, Mason. I want to know what's being done about this," she said in a determined tone.

"I'll take care of it, honey. You go rest," he replied dismissively. Damon could see the anger in her eyes at her husband's patronizing demeanor but for some reason she swallowed it down and went upstairs without another word, closely followed by the blonde nanny.

This woman was an enigma to him. She was strong-willed and energetic and – he would have wagered anything – fiercely passionate. She could look at you in a way that made you think her eyes were burning from the intensity behind them. Usually, when directed at him, that intensity stemmed from the fact that she was extremely angry. But he was sure that fire would come out to play in other situations as well. It was also clear that she had little to no respect for her husband. It was evident in the way she would roll her eyes when she thought no one was looking and in the way she shrugged off his casual matrimonial advances. And yet she let him dictate her life. She let him make all the decisions, even when it was evident that she disagreed with him. She stood up and defended him before others. And she apparently gave him enough affection to not make him doubt their marriage. Damon couldn't help but wonder why this woman accepted to stay on the sidelines, to follow her half-witted buffoon of a husband. Had she seemed content, Damon wouldn't have given it a second thought. He knew many women that were happy with being the trophy wife of a wealthy, good-looking guy. They were happy spending their days shopping and gossiping and their nights making their husbands happy. But Elena didn't seem content. She seemed bored and annoyed. She definitely didn't seem like a woman who would marry for money only. It didn't make any sense.

"So what's the plan?" Mason asked, turning towards the detectives after his wife had ascended the stairs.

"Well, we advise against payment. If they get the money this easily, they will only come back for more," the man replied.

"Of course I'm not paying," Mason replied in a raised voice. "This is outrageous!" He started pacing, clearly deep in thought. "Salvatore, you take care of those cameras. A.s.a.p.!" Damon had to bite his tongue to keep himself from commenting. "And I want another guard in the house. Hire someone you trust." Damon only nodded and Mason turned back to the policemen. "And I want cars patrolling the neighborhood. And people watching the house at all hours," he ordered.

"Well, we can't…" one detective started but was instantly interrupted by Mason.

"Don't bore me with the details. I'll pay," he explained, waving the issue off. "Also we had a break-in the other day. You should check into that. He's probably involved in this."

"That's not very prob…" the detective tried to reason with Mason but was interrupted again.

"Can you just do your job please and stop boring me with your incompetence?" he spat.

The detective looked to Damon, most likely for support or a sensible opinion. "You should take care of your family, Mr. Lockwood. I'll handle the police," he offered, gaining a thankful nod from both his employer and the police officers.

In that moment the front door burst open and Tyler rushed into the house. Vicki got up instantly and rushed over to him, obviously glad someone was finally there that would take her concerns seriously. He only assured himself that she was okay, then Mason and him walked off, discussing how the media should be handled in this situation.

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><p>Elena stayed in bed until noon. Usually she got up quite early, even though she would have liked to spend entire days in bed. It wasn't like her life got more interesting after she got up. At least as long as she was still in bed, she could pretend that a different life waited for her behind that bedroom door. At least today she had a good enough excuse.<p>

When she finally got up, she wandered around the house aimlessly. Her children were in kindergarten, Vicki was most likely in a spa somewhere, recovering from the harrowing experience that was last night and Elena was, as usual, bored. She had attempted to come up with a hobby for herself, had ventured into the realms of water color painting, pottery, and novel writing, but she had always found herself in front of that white canvas, piece of paper or clump of clay, unable to find a single spark of inspiration. So she had given up. Like most of her friends, she claimed that going to the gym was her hobby, but she only really said it to seem less pathetic. She switched on the TV in search of diversion but was quickly even more bored than she had been before. She decided to go outside and 'inspect' the gardens. Armed with pen and paper to note down any comments, suggestions or demands for the gardener, she stepped outside.

When she rounded the corner she gasped. Vicki was right. That man was incapable of putting on a shirt. There he was, in all his bare-chested glory, working out again. She shouldn't be surprised. A body like that didn't just form itself. It was mainly the constant shirtlessness that accompanied the training that was bothering her. Or not so much bothering her as making her flustered. He had his trainer with him, her dark skin glistening in the sun as well. They were doing push-ups next to each other, Damon doing two for every one that Bonnie did but not, Elena supposed, because she was weaker, but because she needed that time in between to yell at him to move his sorry ass. Not so sorry, Elena mused involuntarily, her eyes wandering instinctively to his behind that looked mighty tight, despite the fact that he was wearing loose sweat-pants. She had to swallow, her throat having gone dry. His body was one straight line, every single muscle taught and rippling under his skin as he pushed himself up and down relentlessly. Elena had to fight hard to push impure thoughts away. She could only imagine what those pushups were doing to the muscles on his chest and abdomen.

"Headstand!" Bonnie bellowed out suddenly and Damon formed a triangle around his head with his forearms and pushed his legs straight up in one slow but smooth motion. Now Elena didn't have to wonder about his abs anymore, they were staring right at her. So were his eyes.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Lockwood," he said with a smug smile, his poise never faltering, his abs looking like they had been sculpted to be touched. Bonnie got up and spun around quickly. Elena felt caught and fumbled for a suitable explanation as to why she was standing there, ogling her bodyguard.

"Good afternoon," she said, praying to god that the heat she felt on her cheeks was due to the bright sunshine and not a furious blush. "I just wanted to come over and speak with Miss Bennett for a second," she improvised. "I wanted to apologize for my behavior the other day. I was very rude." She was proud of herself. That probably sounded somewhat believable.

"Oh it's no problem, I don't bear grudges," the woman replied with a happy smile on her face. "But thank you for apologizing, that was very nice of you." Elena gave her a warm smile. "I hope we'll become friends, now that I'll be here every day," the trainer added.

Elena looked at her with a confused expression. "I thought you only trained twice a week," she stated.

"Uhm… yes but…" the other woman let the sentence trail off and turned around, looking to Damon for support. He in turn lowered his legs slightly, folding minimally at the hip and then used this leverage to catapult himself off his elbows into a handstand before lowering his feet to the ground smoothly. Elena could barely suppress an eye-roll. He was such a show-off. Embarrassingly, she was actually impressed.

"Yes, I'm sorry. I thought your husband would inform you. He asked me to hire an additional bodyguard." He said, slowly walking up to the women. Elena looked from Damon to his trainer and back again, not sure what exactly it was he was telling her.

"Me," the girl with the unbelievably wide smile supplied. Elena looked back at her, still dumbstruck, before returning her eyes to Damon.

"But she's a woman," she was finally able to utter.

Damon smiled lightly. "Don't let her tininess and sweet smile fool you. She is a mean one." Elena stared at him in disbelief, so he tried a new tactic. "Look, your husband told me to get someone I trust. She's the one I trust most. The only one I'd trust with my life, actually."

"I think being able to defend us would still be priority number one, though," Elena argued.

"Hit me," the previously silent woman told Damon.

"No Bonnie, that's really not necessary," he replied, an uncomfortable look on his face.

"Come on, you big baby," she said teasingly, an innocent smile playing on her lips.

"Alright," he sighed, "this is gonna hurt."

"No!" Elena exclaimed in shock, unable to believe he would actually hit a girl. Before she could move to intervene, he had pulled his fist back and launched it like a missile at the small woman's face. Elena watched in astonishment as the trainer took the tiniest step to the side, escaping his fist only by about an inch and then grabbed his arm and, using his momentum, flung him over her shoulder and made him land on his back.

"Ugh I knew it!" he said in a whiny voice, getting up slowly, rubbing his back. "You better make that massage extra long today to make up for that," he said in the direction of his friend, before turning back to Elena who was gaping at them. "So, are we good here?" he asked.

"Uhm… yes," she replied in a quiet voice. "Uhm… welcome to the estate… Miss Bennett," she added, still struggling with her words, but extending her hand to the newest addition to her household.

"Thank you," came the smiley and seemingly unfazed reply. "And call me Bonnie."

Elena just nodded and turned around, heading back toward the house.

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><p>A week had gone by and nothing else had happened. Technicians had come to the property to install the cameras and Bonnie had settled into another guest bedroom on the ground floor. Elena didn't feel like her life had changed much, except for the fact that Damon was taking her children to school now and picking them up, instead of Caroline. He had also given her the promised pepper spray, but she had shoved it into some random drawer, not wanting to accept that she could be brought into a situation where she would need to use it. She did feel surprisingly safe, considering. Her friends however practically fell all over themselves, asserting their concerns. Especially Dana, always the most annoying one, couldn't believe Mason didn't want to pay the demanded sum.<p>

"He has the money!" she would exclaim. "His family should be his top priority."

Elena made haste to reassure everyone that they were, that Mason simply didn't want to let himself become prone to blackmail, but her friends still disagreed.

On Friday night Elena was getting ready for her first public appearance since the threat. Mason and she were to attend the opening of the new Mystic Falls Museum of Modern Art and she was excited. Not able to find any inspiration in herself, she thrived off the creativity of others and loved going to museums, exhibitions, concerts, and the like. Mystic Falls was seriously lacking in the cultural department and she had been the driving force behind her husband's generous donations to the new museum. She had bought a new dress for the occasion that she thought highlighted every single one of her physical assets perfectly. She was determined to get through the evening with a bright smile and to not let the possibly imminent danger get her down. Humming her favorite song quietly, she stepped out of her bathroom, clad only in a towel and proceeded to walk into her walk-in closet when she felt strong arms encircling her waist. She was too stunned to react at first. Mason generally refrained from loving gestures or sexually charged surprises. He knew she didn't like them. Everything became crystal clear though when only a second later she felt a wet cloth being pressed against her face. She could only register the strong smell of ether and make one single and unsuccessful attempt at pulling out of the vise-like embrace before she felt numbness rush up through her body and blackness pull her under.

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><p><strong>AN: Reviews make me update faster, pinky promise!**


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: See, nice reviews make me update faster ;) Seriously though, I'm blown away! Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed and alerted this story and to all my friends who morally support me here and on twitter. It means the world to me when someone tells me they enjoy what I do. Nothing is sweeter. Also, Melissa, you reviewed anonymously so I couldn't reply but your review made me laugh out loud! You have an awesome lab-partner! Anyways, without further ado…_

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><p><strong>The fourth chapter, in which someone gets a little carried away<strong>

Elena woke up and she was freezing. She was also surrounded by bustling and yelling which made her head pound horribly. She tried to open her eyes tentatively but the bright light they were met with caused a searing ache to throb through her brain. She winced at the sensation.

"Elena, Elena pumpkin, are you awake?" she heard a familiar voice. She attempted to open her eyes again, despite the piercing pain. At first she could only make out fuzzy shapes moving around but she blinked her dizziness away and slowly she could focus her eyes on specific forms. She saw her husband's face come into focus before her eyes. He was crouched down before her and had a worried look on his face. But as she opened her eyes further, the tension in his features visibly relaxed. "Oh my god, I was so worried," he said, stroking her cheek slightly. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm cold," she replied.

"You should really let me put that blanket over her," she heard another male voice speak up behind her husband. She turned her head slightly to look up and saw her bodyguard standing a few feet away, looking at her with concern in his eyes. She slowly let her eyes drift down and towards her body and noticed that she was only wrapped in a towel that was riding up dangerously high on her thigh. In shock she pushed herself up and pulled the towel down as far as possible while also clinging to the top to prevent it from splitting open across her chest. The last memories before she had lost consciousness came rushing back to her and she began to panic, looking around her. She was lying on the velvety chaise longue in the foyer of her house, Mason, Damon, Caroline, Vicki and Tyler all standing around her, staring.

"Yes, could I please have a blanket?" she asked, trying to keep her voice as level as possible.

"No honey, this is a crime scene. We have to wait for the police." Her husband said in the voice he usually used to reason with his children. She looked around again and caught Damon rolling his eyes behind her husband's back, then felt another shiver run up her body as a breeze stroked her bare legs. She stared at her husband in disbelief.

"Are you kidding me?" she finally spat. She grabbed her hair, verifying that it was still damp. "how long have I been lying here?"

"We're not sure. No longer than forty-five minutes," Mason said reassuringly.

"I've been lying here for forty-five minutes in nothing but a towel, with wet hair, drugged, and you refuse to put a blanket over me because I'm a crime scene?" she asked, barely able to contain herself.

"Pumpkin, you have to understand…" Mason couldn't finish his sentence, being interrupted by Elena's hand that collided forcefully with his cheek. The cracking sound reverberated off of the high ceiling and the marble floor, stunning everyone present into complete silence.

Damon stared at her in amazement. He had never seen her lash out. But her husband had pushed her too far this time and there it was, that fire that he had always known was flaring under the surface. She was stunning, her eyes ablaze, her hair wildly flung over her naked shoulders.

"Damon, give me that fucking blanket!" she demanded and he hurried over to wrap the warming cloth around her freezing body.

In that moment the doorbell ring and Caroline opened it to let a throng of policemen into the soon crowded foyer. Damon started to talk to them instantly, probably explaining what had happened. Elena would have very much liked to know herself. A female officer asked who the victim was and was directed to Elena instantly. She walked over to her and sat down, talking to her in a calm voice.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"A little confused still," the brunette replied in a quiet voice.

The officer only nodded understandingly. "Would it be okay if I checked your vitals real quick?" Elena nodded and the woman pressed her fingers to the pulse point on her throat and looked down at her watch to count the heart beats. She then unhooked a flashlight from her belt and shone it into Elena's eyes. "Your blood pressure is a little low but not alarmingly so. Your reflexes seem fine." The officer gave her a reassuring smile before turning to Mason. "When will the ambulance get here?" she asked.

"Uhm… we were waiting for you before calling one," he replied. The woman looked at him confused, then turned the other people standing around and looking a bit embarrassed. In that moment the door opened again and a group of paramedics entered, being directed to the chaise longue by a police officer.

"Who called these people then?" the female officer asked, now looking utterly confused.

After a short bout of uncomfortable silence, Bonnie spoke up: "Mr. Salvatore, the Lockwoods' bodyguard, called an ambulance when he was informed about what happened," she explained, looking apprehensively towards Mason, knowing that her friend had defied a direct order from their boss.

Mason didn't look too happy but swallowed down his objections when the officer said: "He did the right thing."

The paramedics were done checking Elena through and gave her the green light to go upstairs and get dressed. Bonnie went with her. Despite the large number of policemen in the house, no member of the family was supposed to be by themselves right now. After Elena got dressed, Bonnie made for the door but Elena stopped her by placing her hand on her arm softly. "Miss Bennett?"

"Yes, Mrs. Lockwood?"

"Why wasn't I kidnapped?" The bodyguard looked at her boss with wide eyes, at a loss for words. "I mean, I remember being attacked. I remember someone coming up behind me and putting a cloth over my face, drugging me. I remember losing consciousness. But I woke up in my own house. What happened?"

"We don't really know. Mr. Tyler and Vicki found you. Tyler had to come over before the event to discuss some business with your husband. They found you, unconscious, in the foyer. It seems the perpetrator only moved you. It was meant to send a message. They left another note."

"What does it say?"

"I think they ask for more money. Mason has it."

The two women headed back downstairs. Elena was reluctant, the bustling and hectic made her uncomfortable. She still felt a little dazed. But she wanted to know what exactly had happened and what the next steps would be. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she instantly spotted Mason standing together with Damon and a couple of detectives, poring over a sheet of paper encased in a transparent envelope.

"May I see?" she asked, joining the circle of men.

Mason looked reluctant but Damon, who was currently holding the paper, handed it over to her without hesitation. She tried to keep calm while inspecting the note.

WRONG ANSWER.  
>NEXT TIME SOMEONE DISAPPEARS.<br>WE NOW WANT TEN MILLION. DON'T MESS IT UP AGAIN.

Elena felt panic rise up in her again. She felt the same anxiety she had felt when they found the first note, felt her body wanting to shut down again like it had then, but this time she fought it. It took a deep breath and handed the paper back to Damon who looked at her intently, searching her face to gauge her reaction.

"So what happens now?" she finally asked.

"Well, we're not letting some wannabe criminal blackmail us. We're not paying." Mason replied firmly.

"Didn't feel like a wannabe to me," Elena mentioned quietly, but loud enough for everyone to hear.

"I know pumpkin. We're not staying in this house. We'll go to a hotel," he tried to reassure her.

"Really? A public building? How will we be safe there?" she asked, not even trying to hide the venom in her voice. Mason looked at her, obviously annoyed at her sudden but constant talking back to him

"There are cameras everywhere," he spat back.

"Well, there are cameras everywhere on this property as well. Didn't make me feel very safe tonight, though," she answered back equally as harshly.

"Well it's either a hotel or my mother's house," he replied angrily, obviously hoping to shut her up this way. Damon could see anger flare up in her eyes but she didn't retort anything to this threat. He could see her struggle for words like a caged bird, fighting desperately but aware of her inability to do anything about the situation she was in.

"Maybe I can offer a solution," he spoke up, breaking the antagonistic silence. All eyes turned to him instantly, the police officers' filled with hope that they wouldn't have to face the security nightmare that was a hotel, Elena's thankful that a possible other solution was being proposed and Mason's annoyed at Damon's repeated intervening and contradicting of his instructions.

"I have a house. It's out of state, it's secluded, we could go there." Damon suggested.

"We can't go to a private residence," Mason argued. "They would definitely make a background check on us and look at any property we own."

"Oh but going to Carol's house is a good idea?" Elena mumbled, not really meaning it as a contribution to the discussion though.

"It's not under my name," Damon explained.

"This might be feasible," one of the officers supplied. "We'd have to get in touch with the local authorities, make sure they're equipped to handle observation and emergency response. But this might be our best shot."

"I can't go out of state, I have to take care of my business," Mason contended.

"No, Mason, you have to take care of your family now," Elena disagreed.

"I'm trying. But I can't just up and leave!" Mason replied, visibly getting more and more angry.

"Well," Elena decided calmly, "your family is up and leaving. So you can either come with us or you can stay here and take care of business. But I'm not keeping my children in this house or locked up in some hotel for god knows how long."

"Pumpkin, be reasonable," Mason started again but was cut off by his wife instantly.

"No, you be reasonable! You can't always have everything your way. You don't want to pay the money? Fine. But you can't make us stay in a hotel room for an indeterminate period of time. We are people, Mason! So we're going to that house and I will tell the kids it's a vacation so they don't get even more scared. And you can either join us or you can stay here. But you can't make me stay."

Mason was glaring at her, clearly battling his indecision. In that moment Tyler walked up behind him, speaking quietly: "Mason, you can't go. We have the Mikaelson project coming up."

Anger and resignation both flashed over Mason's face, before he finally gave in. "Fine, I'll stay here." Then, glaring at Damon, he added: "You better not let anything happen to my family."

Damon nodded. "Alright, Mrs. Lockwood, Jenna and Jeremy will come with me. We will take Caroline and also Bonnie, for additional protection. We should leave as soon as possible. Tomorrow, if that can be arranged." Turning to the policemen, he added: "I will give your Captain the details so he can get in touch with the local authorities." The police officers nodded, promising to contact their colleagues immediately and arrange for a departure on the next day.

Tyler spoke up again: "Dou you think it would be possible for my wife to go with you? She is really scared. I worry that she will become the kidnappers' target if they find out that Elena and her children have disappeared."

Damon was reluctant to bring any more people, but he could see the worry on the man's face. He glanced over at Elena quickly to see how she felt about it and when she gave him an unenthusiastic shrug, he agreed to take Vicki with them and instructed Tyler to make sure she was ready at eight a.m.

Elena was hesitant about bringing Vicki. Her sister in law did not handle crises well. On the other hand she didn't know how long this situation would last and she would probably be glad to have a friend with her. Feeling like everything was settled for the time being, she went upstairs to pack, instructing the nanny to get the children's things ready as well.

* * *

><p>They left right on schedule. The police had cleared the destination and surprisingly, Vicki had showed up on time. They were going to be travelling in two cars. Bonnie was driving the car taking Caroline and the kids, while Damon would drive Elena and Vicki. As they were loading their bags into the cars, Damon and Bonnie stepped aside to go over the route, compare times, and revisit emergency strategies. As Elena looked over after depositing the last suitcase in the trunk, she witnessed Bonnie and Damon each inspecting a gun and securing them in holsters around their torsos. A strange feeling of dread and excitement crept up her spine. She had never liked violence. She felt like it was the lowest form of conflict resolution. Weapons did not entice her; she had never wanted to shoot a gun. She knew what harm they could do and that you didn't stand a chance should anyone decide to use one against you. She mistrusted anything that took away your ability to react or fight it. But surprisingly, Damon handling that weapon didn't set her on edge, but strangely calmed her. He exuded strength and control and it made her feel safe. He was infuriating in his cockiness but she had come to trust his abilities to defend her. A firearm in his hand did not seem threatening to her, it seemed like the ultimate line of defense should everything else fail, and she found that to her own surprise she had utter faith that with Damon around, she did not have to worry about that. After a reserved farewell to her husband and a rather sloppy and mushy farewell of Vicki to hers, they all headed for the cars and left.<p>

Vicki having claimed the backseat of their car, stating that this was an ungodly hour to be awake and that she needed to sleep during the drive, left Elena riding shotgun and in the uncomfortable position to perform small talk with her bodyguard. Despite her being thoroughly trained in that department, thanks to the many social functions she and her husband were regularly attending, she found having a conversation with Damon exceedingly difficult. Not only did he not ask her any questions himself, he was also avoiding pretty much every single topic she proposed. After stonewalling questions about his family, childhood, hobbies, career choice and Italian heritage, she gave up and decided that impolitely sharing an uncomfortable silence was still preferable to being shot down every time she tried to spark up a conversation. After a bout of complete silence however, she decided to at least get some information about their destination.

"So what is this house we're going to?" she asked, hoping that that question would be general enough for him to answer.

"It's an old summer residence. My family used to vacation there when I was a kid." He replied, giving her more information about his childhood than he had during the entire car ride thus far.

"So it belongs to your parents?" He had said that it wasn't under his name, but being under his parents' would probably not throw the kidnappers for too much of a loop either.

He hesitated a while before answering and Elena was already expecting him to dodge the question again, but he could probably hear the uncertainty in her voice and felt it necessary to reassure her. "No, it's in my brother's name. And he took his wife's name when they married. People don't make the connection. We should be safe for a while."

"That's unusual," Elena remarked.

"My brother is an unusual man," Damon sad, smiling lightly.

"And he and his family won't want to use it themselves?" she inquired further, being encouraged by his openness.

"No," came his curt reply. Normally this would have perfectly satisfied her, but the pained way in which he said it made Elena think there was more to this story. She didn't dare to press him for details though so she refrained from continuing with her questions.

They had been driving in silence again but Elena had a question that had been irritating her for a while now, so she gathered up some courage once more and turned to address Damon.

"Why didn't they kidnap me?" she asked. "I mean, isn't it strange that they drugged me and then just moved me?"

"It's very strange," he confirmed.

"So why would they do it?" she asked again. "I mean, they obviously had the opportunity and I'm sure Mason would be more cooperative if he felt my life was actually in danger." She wasn't actually sure about this, but affirming her husband's devotion to her had become an automatism.

"We should see it as a positive sign," Damon replied in his most assuring voice. "The most likely reasons are that either they are unable to kidnap you, because they can't financially or logistically pull an actual kidnapping off or because they can't make a clean getaway. The second reason would be that they don't want to go to such extremes and that they hope to get away with mere threats. In that case we still have to worry about how far they might be willing to go if they are being pushed. Desperation makes people dangerous. But we should be encouraged by the fact that so far they've been reluctant to actually follow through on their threats."

Elena just nodded and turned her gaze towards the window, watching the scenery fly by and contemplating her bodyguard's words. He was right. If the people blackmailing them were really serious about their threats, she would not be sitting here; the attack on her would not have been a threat. On the other hand maybe that meant that they could actually be paid off. Maybe withholding the money was not the right move. Maybe this way they would be driven to more drastic measures.

They had been driving all day and they really were in a forlorn area by now. They had passed the last town about an hour ago and were now driving down dirt roads. Apparently there was a highway somewhere nearby and the police station that would come to their rescue in case of an emergency was on that highway, but they were surrounded by a thick forest and Elena would have believed it, if someone had told her she was hours away from any kind of civilization. Damon suddenly stopped and got out of the car and it was only then that Elena noticed a small and dirty forest road that forked off the dusty one they were on. A small rusty chain hung before it and assign fastened onto it informed any passers-by that this road was for authorized forest rangers only. Damon unhooked it and drove through, parking the car a little further down the road and, after Bonnie had passed through the gate as well, he refastened the chain and they continued their way through the seemingly never ending sea of trees. Finally, they emerged from the woods and as they passed over a final little hill, Elena couldn't hold back a gasp. Before her, she saw the endlessness of the Atlantic Ocean expand towards the horizon, the evening sun glistening and sparkling in yellows and oranges off the small waves. A short stretch of dunes faded into a fine sand beach which was encased to both sides by rocky cliffs that were topped by more forest. A single, middle-sized wooden house had been erected at the bottom of the northern cliff. It had two stories and was surrounded by a small porch, the stairs of which ended directly in the white sand.

Damon parked the car on a small patch of grassy gravel and got out, stretching his tired limbs. Elena was right behind him, letting her gaze wander across the scenery in admiration.

"It's beautiful," she exclaimed in a half-whisper. Damon only smiled at her. The second car arrived and Caroline and the kids came running up to them, a constant stream of Oohs and Aahs on their lips. When Bonnie joined them, Damon handed her a bundle of keys and went back to the car to get the bags. The children, not needing to be told twice, ran off towards the ocean, their nanny hot on their heels. Vicki came up next to Elena and together the women eyed the beach warily.

"What's the hold-up?" Damon spoke, suddenly beside them again.

"How do we get to the house?" Vicki asked.

"We go there," Damon replied, confused by the question.

"But there's no walkway," she complained.

"I know. You walk on the beach. It's supposedly very romantic," came his indignant reply.

"I am wearing Louboutins! I am not walking through sand!" she exclaimed.

"Well, do they come off?" Damon asked, obviously getting annoyed.

Vicki let out an angry huff but reluctantly pulled off her high heels. "You're carrying the bags," she ordered without looking back and started walking barefoot towards the house.

"And you?" he asked, turning to Elena. "Louboutins as well?"

"Manolo Blahnik," she corrected.

"Well, off they go." And with that he took off his own dress shoes to leave them behind.

"I'm also wearing $200 stockings," she disputed, convinced that that was a perfectly valid argument.

"Little word of advice," Damon sighed, "next time you're on the run, don't wear stockings that cost more than other people's entire outfits."

"You're one to talk, with your John Vervatos shirts," she huffed.

"Unbelievable," he sighed and before Elena knew what was happening, he had bent down and picked her up, one arm around her torso and one under her knees. When she realized what he was doing, Damon was already carrying her towards the house.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she yelled, trying to squirm and shove at his chest. "This is unacceptable! Put me down right now!"

"But what about your shoes?" he asked, a wicked smile playing on his lips.

"This is preposterous! How dare you!"

"Just calm down and enjoy the sunset," he replied, completely unfazed by her outburst.

Noticing that they were already halfway across the beach, Elena reluctantly (and a little embarrassedly) relented, but not without huffing "You're such a caveman!"

If she was being honest, she would probably have fought more fiercely if being carried towards the sunset in his arms hadn't felt so good.

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><p><em><strong>AN: Be kind, review 3 3**_


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: An update! Thanks to everyone who is subscribing and leaving reviews. It's my own personal crack, hearing from you :)_

_P.S.: TVD's still not mine, though with the shirtless Damon goodness recently you might assume otherwise ;)_

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><p><strong>The fifth chapter, in which someone is attracted to someone else<strong>

The house was as beautiful from the inside as it was from the outside. The door opened directly into the big living room. A fireplace was built into the northern wall and comfortable couches were placed in a half circle around it. Large windows allowed for a breathtaking view of the beach and the ocean. The room was big enough to also serve as dining room and an enormous dark oak dining table was positioned under an elaborate chandelier. The kitchen was off to the side, as were two single bedrooms that now housed Damon and Bonnie who wanted to be on the first floor to be able to react more quickly to possible intruders. Elena and Vicki shared the master bedroom that was situated on the second floor and offered the best view of the ocean and, facing east, sunlight in the morning. Next-door was a slightly smaller room that had become home to Caroline and the children.

After unpacking everything, Elena sat down on the bed to gather her thoughts. On the one hand she was glad to be out of the house. She didn't feel safe there anymore and she did feel safe here. She trusted Damon and Bonnie to protect her and her children. On the other hand she felt like she had been dropped at the end of the world. The little bay was completely secluded and she hadn't seen any signs of civilization on their way here. Damon had 'confiscated' their cellphones upon leaving the Lockwood estate so they couldn't be traced. She had spotted a landline in the living room but that was it. She was torn between relief at being away from the threat and her life and on the other hand anxiety over what was waiting for her here and how she would deal with this unpredictable situation. She hating not knowing what life had in store for her or what to expect from the next day. Surprises never turned out well for her. She just hoped that this time would be different.

When she walked down the stairs, she noticed Vicki lounging on one of the sofas before the fireplace. Small flames were dancing in the stone hearth and distributed comfortable warmth throughout the big room. The woman was lying across the sofa, leafing through a small book. Elena couldn't hold back a little giggle when she asked, astonishment audible in her voice: "You're reading?"

"There's no TV," Vicki replied offhandedly.

"What'cha reading?" Elena asked, hoping to spark up a conversation, sitting down by her friend's feet.

"I don't know. 'The Awakening' or something, it was on the shelf." She waved towards a couple of bookcases propped up against the wall behind them. "Seems boring though." And with that she dropped the book onto the little side table and turned to look at Elena.

"There's no TV, E! What are we gonna do here for weeks?" Vicki seemed exasperated and they hadn't even gotten through the first night.

"I don't know. Tan? Swim in the sea?" Elena supplied.

"You can only tan so much before you turn into Snooki," Vicki huffed and Elena had to giggle at her friend's antics.

"Where is everyone?" Elena asked.

"Caroline is playing on the beach with the kids. Damon and Bonnie are in the kitchen making dinner," Vicki replied, disinterestedly inspecting her nails.

"They're making dinner?" Elena asked, surprised.

"Well, we gotta eat," Vicki supplied.

"Well yes, I just… I don't know I guess I thought we'd order in or something. It's not their job to cook every night."

"We're trying to stay hidden here. Ordering take-out would kind of defeat that purpose, don't you think?" Vicki argued.

"Of course," Elena agreed. "It's just… I'll talk to Mason about giving them a bonus."

"We should have just taken François," Vicki half complained.

"Just wait till you try Damon's Cannelloni," Bonnie's voice interrupted them. She came in from the kitchen, carrying a pile of plates to set the table.

"We're eating carbs at night now?" Vicki asked of no one in particular. Elena decided to ignore that comment and instead tell her nanny to get the children cleaned up for dinner. When they had disappeared upstairs, she joined Vicki again, who had changed positions and was now leaning in the kitchen-doorway.

"He's even hot when he's being all domestic," Vicki whispered. "Normally that's a big turn off. But he sells it. He makes taking milk out of the refrigerator look sexy." Elena giggled lightly but was startled by Bonnie who tried to squeeze through them to get into the kitchen. Elena felt her cheeks flush at the knowing look and small smile that the female bodyguard threw in their direction. Vicki's obvious leering made her look bad and she felt the need to make it clear that that was not what she herself was doing. Bonnie stepped next to Damon and with a quick move of the head made him aware of the women's presence. He turned around and smiled a winning smile at them.

"Are you settling in okay?" he asked, while tossing a salad.

"Yes, thank you," Elena answered quickly and then, wanting to give a reason for standing in the doorway, added: "I wanted to thank you for letting us stay here and also for having taken it upon yourself to cook for us. It is greatly appreciated. I will talk to my husband about a bonus for you and Miss Bennett." She saw a small smile hush over his face.

"That won't be necessary," he waved her off and then added: "You ladies can just help me prepare dinner tomorrow." And with that he turned back to his salad bowl, his back towards them. Elena didn't miss the little look and smirk that passed between the two Bodyguards. She also didn't miss Vicki's look of shock. She herself couldn't believe he was asking her to cook after the conversation they had had about his enlisting her children for work in the kitchen. On the other hand, they were stuck in a cabin and they didn't have a chef. She knew that it wasn't her bodyguards' job to cook for everyone and that these dire circumstances asked sacrifices from everyone.

"Uhm, of course," she said half-heartedly and gave Vicki an apologetic shrug.

* * *

><p>They were sitting at the table and digging into the food. Elena had to agree, the Cannelloni were really spectacular. Only Vicki was sticking to the salad.<p>

"If I'm being made to cook tomorrow, I demand a carb-free dinner," she griped.

"You know, you don't have to abide by everything Paris Hilton does," Damon remarked from the other side of the table. Elena couldn't help but smile, even though she thought it very improper of him to speak to his employer this way.

"Well, this body needs to be maintained," Vicki said while waving her fork nonchalantly in the direction of her torso.

"It also needs to be sustained," Damon retorted with a wink.

"I don't even know if he's insulting me or flirting with me," Vicki said in a stage whisper to Elena, who was sitting next to her.

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of doing either, Mrs. Lockwood," he assured her with a cheeky grin.

"Well, you've insulted me enough for me to know that that is a blatant lie," Vicki replied, the pleasure she felt from the verbal sparring bringing a twinkle to her eyes. "And with all this temptation around," she quickly motioned to the women sitting around the table, "I'm sure you've dreamed of a lot more than flirting." Elena blushed at the directness of her friend's words. She also wondered if he wasn't more of a temptation to Vicki than the four of them combined were to him.

"I don't mix business with pleasure," he replied, leaning back in his chair.

"Really? You spend your days making rich and lonely women feel safe. That's a strong aphrodisiac," Vicki provoked.

"Miss Forbes, what's an afrodijack?" Jeremy asked, trying hard to follow the conversation.

"How about you guys go and play a little? We'll call you for dessert," Elena suggested. The kids weren't happy with this development, but they also knew that their mother's suggestions were never debatable. So they reluctantly got up and scurried upstairs to their room. "These Cannelloni really are delicious," Elena then supplied, hoping it would be enough to steer the conversation in a new direction. Unfortunately Vicki wasn't so easily deterred.

"You've never been tempted?" she asked, a challenging glint in her eyes.

"Never," he answered promptly, looking her straight in the eye.

Damon knew this was a lie. It hadn't been a lie a day ago, but it was now. It was true that in his years as a bodyguard he had had numerous opportunities to start very unprofessional relationships with his employers' wives. Some more alluring than others, but none of them ever seriously tempting. These women were uninteresting to him, with their narrow world-view and their obvious dissatisfaction with life and he had enough prospects to not have to go after anyone he wasn't interested in. And then he had met Elena, who had seemed just as jaded and obnoxious and he hadn't spared her a second glance. He didn't have a lot of respect for young, beautiful, intelligent women who chose to be trophy wives out of laziness. But he had seen a fire in Elena that he hadn't seen in any of the other women before. And he had seen her suppress that fire. He had seen her gaze longingly at her children playing in the gardens and he had seen her wander her house restlessly. There was something underneath the surface, underneath her proper and standoffish exterior and it had intrigued him. He wanted to see how much she was suppressing and he wanted to know why. Then, to make matters worse, her hair had smelled heavenly when he had carried her across the beach. He had started to notice her attractiveness only recently. It had come as a bit of a surprise to him at first, when he had noticed the depth in her brown eyes and the almost lascivious way in which she drove her hand through her long hair. And then he had caught himself finding more and more parts of her body that appealed to him. He had discovered that her lips were plump in a way he hadn't realized at first and that they looked incredibly kissable when she closed them around her finger, licking off some whipped cream she had wiped off the rim of her cup of hot cocoa. He had caught himself noticing that, despite being quite slim, she had curvy hips that practically begged to have his hands run over them and, his personal pinnacle of shame, when she had been lying passed out on that chaise longue, wrapped in nothing but a towel that revealed almost her entire thigh, he had not been able to keep his admiration for her long legs at bay, neither had he been able to suppress the desire to find out how pliable those shapely limbs really were.

He had set very strict rules for himself and getting involved with an employer, especially a married one, was completely off limits. But he had been startled by his reaction to having her body in his arms and therefore, to say now that he had never been tempted was clearly a lie.

"Don't tell me you're a monk," Vicki kept prodding, a teasing quality to her voice.

"I said I didn't sleep with my employer, I didn't say I was abstinent," he replied nonchalantly.

"Ah! Well, Miss Forbes, you better watch out then," Vicki said suggestively.

The blonde blushed furiously at the insinuation and Elena decided to put an end to this discussion. "Vicki, can you help me get the dessert?" she asked, already getting up.

When they reached the kitchen, Vicki let out a little giggle. "Am I going to get scolded now?" she asked, picking up a strawberry.

"I just thought it was time that conversation came to an end," Elena answered, picking up the bowl of fruit from the counter.

"Only because you were upset by what he said," Vicki contended.

"I was upset by what you said, V!" Elena replied firmly. "This was very inappropriate."

"Come on, don't tell me you don't want a piece of that," Vicki challenged again. "I saw him frigging carry you into the house!"

"That was not… That was… I didn't enjoy that!" Elena replied heatedly.

"Yeah right," Vicki huffed, but her face held a gleeful expression. "Well, you can be in denial all you want. I for one am not letting him get away with his no diddling the boss shenanigans. I want him. And I always get what I want."

"You don't even like him," Elena argued.

"I've heard very good things being said about hate-sex," Vicki reasoned.

"You're so vulgar," Elena sighed.

„Well, if you want to make sweet love to him, be my guest. But that man is doubtlessly capable of pounding me into oblivion and I am going to get him to do it."

Elena lifted her free hand to her temple, rubbing it gently against the oncoming headache. "Can we end this conversation, please?" she pleaded.

"Oh sweety, why must you be such a prude sometimes?" Vicky complained.

"I'm not being a prude. But you're married. To my husband's brother. This conversation is making me very uncomfortable."

"Well, there's married and then there's married," Vicki huffed.

"What do you mean?" Elena asked, now concerned. "Is something wrong?"

At that moment the door to the kitchen was opened and Jeremy stuck his head in. "Miss Caroline said that you were getting the dessert, but now you're not coming back," he complained.

The women turned to him quickly and followed him back into the living room, agreeing in silence to continue this discussion another time.

* * *

><p>After dinner was over, Vicki retired to her room, claiming she had a headache. Damon and Bonnie started doing the dishes, claiming that it was always the cook's duty to clean up the mess he made, which made Elena uncomfortable because it meant that she would be doing the dishes the next day. Caroline was playing with the children and since she had nothing else to do, and also because she wanted to seem cooperative, she helped clearing the table. When she stepped out of the kitchen, having just disposed of a large pile of plates, she was startled by her son's laughter. She turned to see him sitting on a rug in front of the crackling fireplace and playing legos with his nanny. Her daughter was sitting next to them, working on a coloring book. She was concentrating so hard that a frown creased her forehead and her pen strokes were short and slow because of the effort she put into not coloring over the printed lines. Elena leaned against the doorframe, just watching her children, not daring to join them. Suddenly she felt heat right behind her and when she quickly turned her head, she realized that it emanated from Damon's body, who was leaning against the doorframe right behind her.<p>

"You can play with them if you want to, you know," he said quietly.

"Oh yeah, I know," she replied, waving him off. "I'm glad Miss Forbes gets along with them so well. I wouldn't know what to do." She laughed lightly, hoping to throw him off her track, hoping she could cover up her anxieties.

"Doesn't matter," he answered. "They will love you for being there."

"Oh yeah?" she snapped. "And what makes you such an expert? Do you have kids?"

She thought she saw a flicker of something like sadness rush over his face, but it was gone before she could fully recognize it. "No," he answered curtly. "But you do. And you want to play with them. I'm just telling you that you can." And with that he turned and went back into the kitchen, leaving her in the doorway, stunned. Was it that obvious that she wished she had a closer relationship with her children? Could everyone tell that she felt she failed as a mother? Or was it just Damon, who could read her like that? She wasn't sure which possibility scared her more.

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><p><em>AN: There it is. A bit short, but I hope you still liked it. I'm trying to make shorter chapters and update faster for this fic. Please tell me what you think. Even if you didn't like it. I can take the criticism (I think…). I want to improve, but I need your help :) Also, after that last episode, I wish you all a DElicious weekend! Lots of repeat-viewing of certain scenes I would assume ;)_


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: An update! I know I know I've been slacking. And I'm so sorry. I was focusing on "Second Chances". But I felt inspired for this again, so here you go :) Thank you all so much for sticking with me and for your encouraging words. They're really greatly appreciated! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it._

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><p><strong>The sixth chapter in which the defenses are going up<strong>

Elena had made a decision. She had thought about it long and hard, had weighed the pros and cons and had decided to overcome her fears and just go for it. She was a woman on a mission, as she was walking down the stairs. It was early morning. Vicki was still in bed, knocked out from her sleeping pills, and she could hear her kids and their nanny getting ready next door. But she was sure that the person she was looking for would already be up. Probably working out, as always. She stopped on the porch and watched the strong legs sprint across the sandy beach, watched the muscles tighten with every leap, watched the person whose determination and strength both intrigued and intimidated her. But the time to be timid was over. She had prepared her speech and she was ready to give it.

"Miss Bennett?" she called out and waved the trainer over. The other woman stopped in her tracks and then jogged up to the house, her chest still heaving from the exertion.

"Yes, Mrs. Lockwood?" she asked, a little out of breath, but looking unfairly perfect for the workout she had probably already been through. Elena hesitated for a moment, but pushed on, determined to be strong this once.

"I was wondering if… I could take lessons. From you." Elena stammered, her well-planned speech completely forgotten.

"Lessons in what?" Bonnie asked, surprised.

"Well, what you did with Mr. Salvatore the other day, how you threw him over your shoulder, I want to learn that," Elena tried to explain.

"You want me to teach you martial arts?" Bonnie's eyes widened.

"Well, self-defense, I guess." Elena hesitated a bit and looked at the woman standing in front of her, hoping she would relieve her from this awkward situation. But no such luck. "Look, I know I don't seem like the hands-on type…" Bonnie had to suppress an agreeing huff. "But I've been attacked. And I couldn't do anything. I have never felt so weak and helpless in my life. And there is nothing I hate more than feeling helpless." She had to take a deep breath. She was highly uncomfortable, baring her soul to a stranger like this. But she wanted, she needed, those lessons. And she was willing to go to great lengths to get the trainer to agree to her demand. "I do trust you and Mr. Salvatore to protect us. But I don't want to feel this helpless." She looked at the trainer, who was simply staring at her. "Please," Elena added.

"Of course," came the hurried reply. "Sure. No problem. When do you want to start?"

"Uhm… I don't know. Whenever you are free." Elena replied eagerly.

"Well, I'm always free, we're all stuck in this house together," the young woman replied with a merry laugh. "Do you want to get started right away?" she then asked.

"Yeah, sure. Okay," Elena answered, suddenly nervous. "Like here? Or do we go somewhere?"

"Well, I guess on the beach would be best. But maybe you want to go change?"

"Sure. Yes. I'll be right back," Elena confirmed quickly and sprinted back up to her room. She was experiencing a rush. She felt braver and stronger already. She had quarreled with her decision for a long time, not sure if she would actually be capable of what she wanted to do. But now that she had taken the step to share her plan and ask for someone's help, she felt exhilarated and elated. She was being proactive for once, was going to defend herself for once and not rely on someone else for once. The simple fact of having made the decision made her heart flutter and her stomach clench at the same time. As much as the plan excited her, it frightened her in equal measure. She could fail. She could make a fool of herself or get hurt or simply not learn and be taken by the kidnapper despite her efforts. She recognized that feeling of despair and anxiety that was creeping up her spine. She knew it because she succumbed to it every time, retreating, physically and mentally shutting down, depending on someone else to save her, like the snail that hoped its house would save it against the foot that was about to trample on it. But not this time, she told herself. This time she would at least try. She would not let her fear incapacitate her, she would fight until the very last minute. This time it wasn't just about her, it was about her children as well and she would not let them get hurt because she had been too afraid to do what was necessary. Also this time it was obvious that her husband would not be able to save her with his money and his influence. She needed real, actual protection. And even though Damon and Bonnie were doing a good enough job, Elena had reached the point where she didn't want to rely on them completely. She would not be able to live with herself if she went through this relying on other people entirely and loosing because of it. If she was going down, she would at least be going down fighting.

She was in her workout clothes and back on the beach in no time. "Let's get started," Bonnie exclaimed as she jogged back up to her newest client. "I want to evaluate your strength and fitness before we get started on actual training. So we'll start with a run on the beach okay? You want to get your endurance up as well, not only your muscle power."

Elena nodded and the two women started jogging down the beach. Elena did go to the gym frequently, if only because she was bored, so she wasn't too worried about her endurance. Running in the sand, however, was more strenuous than on the cross-trainer. Her feet sank into the soft sand with each step and she had to use additional force to push herself forward. Her legs were starting to get heavier faster than she thought and after a few times up and down the beach she was starting to get windy. Bonnie looked at her and smiled. "How about a little sprint?" she asked, jogging easily alongside her tired boss.

"A sprint?" Elena turned her head and looked at her bewildered.

"Just to the rocks at the end of the beach. About 500 feet. To get the blood pumping a little."

Elena thought that was a horrible idea but nodded nonetheless. Bonnie smiled and took off, leaving an annoyed Elena behind. This was a stupid plan, she chided herself before dropping her head and straining the muscles in her legs to increase the speed. When she reached the rocks she was ready to tell Bonnie she had changed her mind about training with her.

"Not bad," the trainer said with an acknowledging smile. "Do you work out often?"

Elena eyed the trainer suspiciously, not sure if she was actually paying her a compliment or mocking her. She felt her blood pump through her veins violently, making her head burn red and sweat breaking out all over her body. It was obvious that she was in far inferior shape than the bodyguard. Not sure which angle the other woman was playing, she replied reluctantly: "I try to go to the gym three times a week. Sometimes I'm too busy though."

"Yeah no, I can tell. You're quite fit," Bonnie replied with an honest smile. "Running on the beach is not like running at the gym though, is it?" Elena only shook her head, breathing heavily, which made Bonnie smile. "Don't worry about it," said the dark skinned beauty. "Here you have the time to really work out. You should try and run every day and then we'll do actual training sessions three times a week. You'll be as fit as a fiddle in no time."

Elena smiled but still didn't speak as the girls went back up to the house. When they reached the porch, Bonnie handed her a water bottle and both women drank greedily. Once she had quenched her thirst and felt like her breathing and heart rate were slowly returning back to normal, she finally started to speak again.

"Really? You think I'm in ok shape? I feel like I'm dying. It doesn't even seem like I ran very far and I'm totally spent."

"Oh no, you did great," Bonnie reassured her. "It's normal to be exhausted. I work out every day and I have done so for the past five years. Don't fret. You'll see, you'll make progress quickly."

Elena couldn't help but smile at her gratefully. She liked this girl. She had been unfriendly to her from the very beginning and still the other woman had remained warm and helpful the entire time. She had a calm inner strength that Elena found very appealing and a seemingly incredibly good-hearted nature. Elena didn't know many people like her and she found herself wishing she did. It must be great to have a friend like her, she thought to herself before her rambling thoughts were interrupted by the other woman's voice.

"So, are you ready for your first lesson in self-defense?" she asked, sounding cheerful.

"Uhm, sure," Elena replied, trying to push her worries away. The idea of throwing a grown man over her shoulder scared her and sounded ridiculous at the same time. But she had faith that if her trainer thought she could do it, then she could.

"Alright, we'll start with the basics. All the fun and exciting Judo and Karate moves are for later. Right now I will teach you a few simple strategies. Some very elementary maneuvers, okay?"

Elena wasn't sure if she was relieved or disappointed but nodded anyways.

"Alright. The thing about Judo, for example, is that you want to defend yourself without actually hurting the other person. It's not aggressive. It really is pure self-defense. The other person might get hurt in the process, but not because you attacked them."

"Yeah, okay," Elena agreed. She could definitely agree to use non-violent methods.

"That's not what we're gonna be doing right now," Bonnie said determinedly.

"What?"

"Right now what you want to learn is how to get out of being attacked, ok? We can deal with the niceties and the style of it all later. Right now we want to make sure that if someone ever comes at you again, you can get away from them. And right now you're not stronger than… probably anybody. So you have to know how to exploit their weaknesses, alright?"

"Uhm yeah. Ok."

"Good." The girl smiled. "So your attacker is probably not going to be someone like me. It's probably going to be a man. And a strong one. I'll get Damon so he can help us."

"What?" Elena felt a surge of panic run through her body. Asking Bonnie for help had been one thing. She was a woman. Asking Damon was something entirely different. "I don't think that's necessary. You can just show me. I don't need an actual attacker right now. We can do that later."

"Don't worry. He'll be glad to help," Bonnie smiled and disappeared inside the house. A minute later she came back, the male bodyguard following close behind, a smile playing on his lips. At least he's wearing a shirt, Elena thought, eyeing the black cloth draping tightly over his muscular shoulders.

"So you want to learn how to defend yourself against me?" he said, smirking playfully.

"Well, how to defend myself in general," she corrected, pushing her fists into her sides to seem determined but not able to hold his gaze. Her eyes drifted to the porch beneath her feet. He probably thought she was ridiculous, trying to defend herself.

"I think that's a good idea," he said. Her eyes shot up to his uncertainly, but his face looked sincere. "What do you need me to do?"

"Just stand there," Bonnie instructed before moving over to Elena. "Alright, Mrs. Lockwood, you're with your back against the wall. This man is threatening you. You can't run. What do you do?"

"I don't know," Elena answered nervously. Her back was pressed against the house wall now; Damon was standing only a short distance away from her, his arms casually at his sides, not moving an inch. He was eyeing her as if he was curious what she would do next. Run, it screamed in Elena's mind. But Bonnie had told her that she couldn't and looking at the man standing in front of her, despite his currently immobile state, she was sure that she didn't stand a chance if she tried. "Push him away?"

"Don't tell me what you do, do it," Bonnie instructed.

Elena eyed Damon uncertainly for a second, pretty sure that trying to push him away was going to backfire badly. But right now it was the only idea she could come up with. She leaned forward quickly and shoved at his chest, assuming that, should he stumble backwards, she could possibly try and make a run for it. She didn't even get to try though. Before she was even able to draw her hands back, he had gripped her wrists in a vise grip. She gasped from the shock and instinctively tried to pull her arms back but didn't stand a chance. He only pulled her in closer. Slowly he pushed her back against the wall and when her back was firmly pressed against the wood again, he gripped her wrists with one hand and brought the other to her throat, holding her head in place. He was being gentle, only holding her fast enough to make sure she couldn't move away but not enough to cause her pain, but Elena felt the familiar anxiety rise up inside her. She didn't stand a chance. He was pinning her against the wall without even trying and she had no way of escaping. If he meant to actually harm her, the hand around her throat would simply tighten and she would be gone. She felt tears well up in her eyes. She was nothing but vulnerable. She had known it all along. For a fleeting moment she had believed she could change that but it was obvious she couldn't.

"Mrs. Lockwood," Bonnie called, getting her attention. "What do you do now?"

"What do you mean?" Elena looked at her, shocked. "I can't do anything. He'll kill me."

"Okay, Damon, let go for a second." Elena felt his hand leave her throat at Bonnie's words and his other arm release her wrists. He stepped back and shot her an encouraging smile. What was that smile supposed to mean? They were done, she had lost, and there was nothing that could encourage her in this situation. "So why did that fail?" Bonnie asked her, looking at her expectantly.

"Because he's stronger," Elena said, slowly regaining her bearings.

"Right," Bonnie nodded. "But also because you chose the wrong part of him to attack." She lifted her fist and hit it hard against Damon's chest who didn't even flinch. "His ribcage is solid bone and muscle. Like you said, you're not very strong. You can't hope to hurt him by hitting him there." Elena nodded, a little embarrassed. "So, chest is not an option, where else could you hit him to hurt him?"

Elena eyed her trainers warily and uncertainly inspected Damon's body on display in front of her. Where would it hurt if someone hit her? A wave of panic hit her quickly and she let her head hang for a second, trying to fight against the onslaught of images in her mind. She swallowed them back down and raised her head again. "The stomach?" she proposed.

"Try it," Bonnie urged her on, to Elena's utter astonishment.

"What am I? A punching bag?" Damon complained, not seeming overly concerned however.

"Stop whining you baby," Bonnie chided playfully, before motioning to Elena to go on. The latter looked at Damon wide-eyed, not really sure what to do. Resigned, he heaved a small sigh before nodding for her to hit him. She hesitated for another second but when he made a motion with his hand, encouraging her to hit him, she leaned back slightly, drew her right arm backwards, balled her hand into a fist and let it shoot forward to collide with his abdomen. Again he barely flinched, caught her hand in one swift move before she could pull back and pushed her back against the wall. This time, however, Elena was too shocked to be frightened. Instead a small laugh escaped her.

"Are you serious?" she exclaimed, looking at Bonnie stunned.

The other woman chuckled lightly. "Most people will be hurt if you punch them in the stomach," she conceded. "But when you're trained enough, your abs will protect your intestines. If you want to hit someone in the torso and be sure to hurt him, you want to hit the solar plexus." The woman indicated a point under her own chest. "Damon, show her."

Suddenly he moved her hand that he had been holding firmly only seconds before, pried open her fingers and laid them flat against his chest. "That's the sternum," he said, pressing her hand against a solid plate of bone. "Where it ends, you can feel it dip. That's the end of the ribcage." He was pushing her hand down his chest until her fingers slipped off the hard bone and sank into soft flesh. He kept pushing until she felt his hard abs, only a few inches further down. She stared at her hand, swallowing drily. "When you punch too low, you'll only reach my abdominal muscles. You have to hit just the right spot." He pulled her hand back up again. "This is the solar plexus. It's a complex network of nerves. If you hit me there hard enough, you can incapacitate me. No matter how much I work out." She nodded slowly, her eyes still transfixed on her fingers gliding over his chest. "That's why we're not gonna actually try that one," he said in a jovial tone, releasing her hand. For a second she wanted to let it linger, but then she realized what she was doing and snapped her hand back quickly, holding both her hands against her chest tightly as if to stop them from moving. Her eyes shot over to where Bonnie was standing, as if waiting on her next instruction.

"Okay, back against the wall," Bonnie said smilingly and before Elena could properly process what was happening, Damon had her shoved against the wall again, her hands pinned up against her chest by one of his and his and his other palm closing around her throat again. This time she didn't panic though, she only let out a resigned huff and looked to Bonnie. "So, what do you do now?"

Elena gauged her situation carefully and tried to see if she could move her arms at all. But it didn't look good. His bodyweight pressed against her, squashing her arms into her chest. When she tried to move them, she only hurt her wrists and made his hand tighten around her throat. She wanted so badly to ask Bonnie for advice but at the same time she wanted to do it on her own. Fine, her arms were out of the game. She had no chance of reaching his solar plexus now. But there had to be another solution. She struggled again and felt her foot slip slightly. That's when she realized it: her legs were free. And she could think of at least one other place where men were vulnerable. Her eyes dropped for a second and then shot over to Bonnie. The other woman must have realized what she was thinking because a proud smirk crept across her face. Elena still hesitated but when Bonnie gave her a quick nod she took a little breath and pulled her knee up swiftly to crash it into his groin.

Before she knew what happened to her, the hand around her neck released her while the other one pulled her hands higher to under her chin, thus effectively incapacitating her arms and her head with one of his hands. The now free hand dropped and warded off her knee-attack quickly, throwing her a little off balance. He used her bout of disorientation and quickly stepped closer, leaning fully against the length of her body now, pushing his knee between her legs to thwart further attacks from her in that area.

She breathed heavily. Her plan had failed again. And she was now entirely incapacitated physically. Any rapid movement only resulted in friction in odd places. She was disappointed at the failure, but more than that, she was disconcerted at his sudden closeness. His lean body was firmly pressed against hers, her chest pushed against his with every breath she took, his face was only inches away from hers, his eyes boring into hers intensely.

"Mommy?" she suddenly heard a small voice from behind Bonnie. He hastily stepped away from her and released her hands. Her head shot around and she caught sight of Jeremy, who was standing in the doorway, looking at them with fear in his eyes.

"Oh hey Jeremy," she said, almost stunned into silence herself. "What are you doing here?"

He held onto the doorway, swaying back and forth uncertainly while his eyes were skipping from one adult to the next. "Are you okay, mommy?" the look of worry on her son's face broke her heart.

"Yes. I'm okay. Don't worry. Miss Bennett and Mr. Salvatore are just helping me train. It's just exercise, okay?" she tried to reassure him but he still looked uncertain.

"Hey, buddy," she heard Damon say next to her. When she turned her head she saw him hunker down so he was on eye level with her son. "I would never hurt your mom, okay? I promise." Jeremy nodded slowly, not fully convinced yet. "You want to protect your mom and that's very good. You're very brave. But you can't always protect her. And I can't always protect her either. I wish I could but I can't. So I'm trying to help her out so she can protect herself, okay?" Jeremy nodded again, this time a little more certain. "You wanna give her a hug to make sure she's okay?" He asked with an encouraging smile on his face.

A smile spread across the little boy's face and he nodded vigorously now. Damon got back up and smiled in Elena's direction, who smiled back and then looked at her son. He looked up at her, his enthusiasm wavering slightly, unsure of whether he could hug her now or not. Truthfully, she wasn't sure herself but she felt that she wanted it as well, so she slowly bent down a little and opened her arms only slightly. Before she could say the word, the little boy had pushed himself away from the doorframe and stumblingly run across the porch to fling himself into her arms. His arms went around her neck instantly and held her tight. She couldn't help the grin that spread across her face at the feeling of his little body clinging to hers. She wrapped her arms around him and straightened herself back up, lifting him with her. His legs encircled her waist and his face was buried in her neck, holding her as fast as he could.

"See, I'm okay," she said soothingly into his ear to which he only nodded, not loosening his grip. "Why did you come outside?" she asked.

At this he pulled away slightly, his worries forgotten and with a proud smile on his lips he announced: "Miss Caroline, Jenna and I made breakfast."

"Oh well we should go eat then," she said, chuckling. He nodded energetically, which made her chuckle even more. "Alright, go on inside. I'll just freshen up and then I will come and check out that amazing breakfast of yours, alright?" With that she put her son back down and watched him run off on his tiny legs, closely followed by Bonnie.

As she moved towards the house herself, she was startled by Damon's voice. "It was your eyes," he said, walking up next to her.

"Excuse me?" she asked, not sure what he was referring to.

"If you plan on kicking a guy in the balls, don't look at them first," he winked and with that he disappeared into the house as well. She waited a second for the furious blush to leave her cheeks before she followed.

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><p><em><strong>Please be your awesome selves and review! 3 3<strong>_

_Also you can follow me on Twitter and chat with me about how awesome Damon is. I have many many thoughts on that matter ;) ceruleanvixen**  
><strong>_


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: Wow. Sorry for the delay. But hey, I was at BloodyCon in Bonn last weekend and hung out with Ian, Dawn, Zach and Paul, so I hope that counts as a good excuse ;) Also, I struggled so much with this, so please have mercy on me! One last thing: I was blown away by everyone's reviews for last chapter! It was my most reviewed chapter ever so thank you thank you thank you for that. You guys are the best! I hope I don't let you down too much with this one :)_

_P.S.: Still don't own TVD, as if that wasn't obvious…_

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><p><strong>The seventh chapter, in which our heroine discovers the secret meaning of Simon &amp; Garfunkel lyrics<br>**

Elena was lying in bed, staring at the moon outside her window. She couldn't get what Vicki had said the night before out of her head. She felt like she had to talk about it.

"Vicki?" she asked quietly, turning around slowly to face the woman lying next to her.

"Yeah?" the other woman opened her eyes with surprising alertness.

"I just… Is everything okay? With you and Tyler?" Elena felt intrusive now, but this was what friends did, right?

"Yeah, sure. Perfect," came Vicki's hurried reply.

"I don't mean to pry. It's just… what you said yesterday about how there was marriage and then there was marriage… It just sounded like maybe you need someone to talk to. And I just… You know, I'm here. In case you do want to talk."

"Thanks E, that's very sweet. But really, I'm fine." The sad look in Vicki's eyes spoke a different language than her words and for the first time in a long time Elena felt the need to be there for her sister in law, even if that meant insisting. Truth be told, she didn't feel very close to her, but if she was being honest, this woman was probably the closest thing to a friend she had.

"Vicki, come on. What's going on?" she asked, reaching out to take her friend's hand in hers reassuringly.

"Don't worry, Elena, we're fine. It's just… we're not like you guys, you know. And sometimes I just wish we were."

"What do you mean?" Elena asked, dumbfounded.

"Ty and I, we... we can't be without each other, you know?"

Elena smiled. That didn't sound like a problem to her.

"I mean… we fight all the time. I want to kill him sometimes. I mean really kill him. He makes me so mad." Elena gave her friend a lopsided smirk that was half playful and half chiding. "But I can't," Vicki continued. "I can't be without him. It's like we don't function on our own."

"That's good, isn't it? That's love, needing the other person so much."

"Is it? Shouldn't love be being with someone because you want to be with them and not because you can't be without them?"

"Maybe it's a bit of both?" Elena hazarded.

"Like you and Mason?" Vicki asked.

"I don't know about that," Elena replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

"You guys are perfect together. You are perfect, you have perfect children, a perfect life."

"Is that what it looks like?" Elena asked, getting more and more uncomfortable.

"Yes," was Vicki's simple reply before the two of them fell into silence. Elena was surprised. Of course she did everything to seem happy and to make her marriage look perfect, but she would have thought her sister in law would see right through it. They spent almost every day together after all. There was no one she was closer to. Right now that thought made her sad. Then again, that was the way she had chosen to live. Superficial friendships were easier to uphold and less dangerous. They didn't require as much emotional investment, nor as much soul baring. "I still wonder about it sometimes," Vicki continued.

"About what?" Elena asked, confused.

"If he would have still married me, had I not been pregnant," Vicki explained.

"Of course he would have. He loves you, Vicki. You both thrive off all this drama and intensity, but like you said, he wouldn't know what to do without you. You fight all the time, but you're still together. That means something, doesn't it?" Elena had no doubt that her brother and sister in law were deeply in love. She didn't understand how anyone could live in a relationship such as theirs. Deep, unwavering love for each other was the only explanation she could come up with. If they didn't love each other, they would surely have called it quits a long time ago.

"Sometimes I think he only stays married to me because he knows it pisses off Carol." Elena had to chuckle at Vicki's theory, though if either of the boys wanted to piss off their mother, staying married to their wives was the best way. She didn't approve of either of them.

"He could piss her off a lot easier," Elena said with a smile. "That woman is never happy."

"No, she isn't, is she?" Vicki let her eyes drift to the ceiling. "How could she be, with her precious son married to some small-town hick?" Elena had never known that Vicki was troubled by her roots. She came from a tiny spec on the map and had moved to the city to work in a diner and try to get lucky in life. Then she had met Tyler, a rich and handsome young man from a good family and with a good job, and they had fallen for each other instantly. And hard. Suddenly he took her out to fancy events and restaurants, bought her nice clothes and vacationed with her in Europe. Elena knew the feeling. Suddenly belonging with the rich and powerful. Vicki sure was considered newly rich, but she threw the best charity events, earning her respect in the community in her own right. "She'd probably be happy if he actually dumped me for his secretary. Skanky bitches move in packs." Elena had to giggle before turning serious again.

"Do you really think he's cheating on you?" Elena asked, hoping that she wasn't going too far.

"I don't know. Probably not," Vicki conceded. "Then again, he might just be too smart for me. He knows that if I ever caught him that would be his end." She smiled sadly. "You and Mason would never cheat on each other, would you? That must be nice, to be so certain."

Elena swallowed thickly. "You shouldn't always compare your relationship with Tyler to Mason and me. We're just different. We're not necessarily happier."

"You always seem so happy," Vicki said, making Elena think back to the conversation she'd had earlier that night with Damon, while they were cooking. The fact that her friend bought her act should relieve her, but at this moment it brought tears to her eyes. The only thing she could come up with was to steer the conversation in a different direction.

"Does it still make you sad?" she asked carefully.

"What?"

"Losing the baby?" Elena knew that this was probably a touchy subject. They had never really talked about it back then but in the spirit of being there for her friend tonight, she figured she should ask.

"Oh, no. Not really. I mean… Let's be honest. I would be a terrible mother," Vicki tried to play it off, but Elena could tell that the question had made her uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry. It wasn't my place. I just… I want you to know that I'm here for you. For whatever," Elena tried to explain.

"I know. You're the sweetest bitch around," Vicki responded, grinning slightly. "So, tomorrow we get to call home?"

"Yes," Elena replied, feeling hopeful and dreading the phone call at the same time. They had decided to call home once a week and never for very long. Tomorrow was the first call and Elena wasn't sure what to expect. She had believed that being away from her husband would make her miss him, but she found that, already feeling very distant from him at home, being actually away from him, even if only for a few days, had only increased the feeling of dissociation. While hoping that speaking to him on the phone would give them a chance to reconnect, she was also afraid it might not.

"I'm tired, E. I need to sleep," Vicki said while grabbing a sleeping pill off her nightstand.

"Sure," Elena answered. "Good night." And with that the two women turned around, leaving Elena to stare at the moon outside her window again. She should sleep as well, she should certainly not think about her bodyguard. But try as she might, she couldn't stop her mind from wandering. Back to earlier that evening.

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><p>They had been spending the day pretty much as they had planned on spending every day, tanning on the beach. Vicki was reading that book again but still didn't seem too entranced by it. Elena was relaxing her muscles from the exertion earlier that morning and every once in a while glanced over to her children who were building a sand castle with their nanny. When the sun began to set and Elena felt the first cooler evening breezes stroke the sun-heated skin of her belly and send slight shivers up her bikini clad body, Vicki got up to get something to drink. So when she felt a shadow fall across her face and a body sitting down next to her, she figured her friend had simply returned. Up until a deep, male voice startled her out of her reverie.<p>

"Beautiful, isn't it?" he questioned and when Elena opened her eyes and turned her head she saw him staring out at the ocean where the sun was slowly turning orange and beginning to tinge the first fizzy clouds in a pale pink.

"Yes," she agreed. "Very beautiful. Thank you for taking us here."

"It was the safest place I could think of," he replied, his gaze still resting on the horizon. "Where's your friend?" he finally questioned.

"Uhm, I don't know. She just wanted to get something to drink," Elena answered, looking back at the house with uncertainty.

"Well, looks like it's just me and you then," he said with a smile, turning to her for the first time.

"No, Caroline's over there with my children," she started, turning her head back to the little group that was now decorating their construction with seashells.

"I was talking about the cooking," he elaborated with a grin.

"What?" Elena asked, still not getting his drift.

"You ladies volunteered yesterday to help me make dinner tonight, remember? And since your friend's not here, that just leaves you." And with that he got up and held his hand out to her to help her stand up as well.

When Elena got back to her room to freshen up after the day spent at the beach, she heard the shower running. So that was where Vicki had disappeared to, probably intentionally escaping the chore awaiting her. So instead of getting cleaned up herself, Elena threw over a light kaftan and went back downstairs. As she entered the kitchen, her bodyguard was already standing by the cupboards, taking out ingredients for their meal. Earlier she had been thankful that he was wearing a shirt. But who was she kidding? The thin black cloth did nothing to hide his muscular shoulders as he reached up to get something from the top shelf.

"So," he started, his back still turned towards her, having to have sensed her standing in the doorway. "Since the other Mrs. Lockwood isn't here to help or complain, I take it we can prepare something with carbs after all?" He turned around and gave her a cheeky grin.

"Not if you want to keep her happy," Elena replied with a warning look.

"Carbs it is," came his instant reply, in response to which, to her own horror, Elena couldn't help but smile. "So to introduce you to the exciting world of cooking, I was thinking Spaghetti al Pomodoro."

"Spaghetti with tomato sauce? That doesn't sound very exciting," Elena said with a slight pout, walking up next to him to take a look at the produce.

"I figured I'd start you off with something simple," he returned, a playful smile on his lips, to which Elena only huffed in feigned disappointment and threw a disdainful look at the tomatoes. "Don't you know that anything can be exciting if you make it exciting?" she heard his smooth voice right next to her ear, sending undecipherable shivers up her spine. She jumped slightly, leaning on her other foot to create some distance.

"So how are you going to make tomato sauce exciting?" she asked with a challenge in her voice that made him smile.

"Ah! And thus her interest was piqued," he grinned, tossing a tomato at her which she caught fumblingly. The shock in her eyes at the idea of the fruit possibly squashing and staining her made him chuckle.

Thankfully, she regained her composure quickly and nonchalantly inspected the red object in her hand before clearing her throat. "So, Mr. Chef," she began with a half playful, half daring smirk. "What do you need me to do?" she asked in a more lustrous tone than intended. She only realized it when she thought she saw his eyes darken only a fraction. The flirtatious smirk fell off her face instantly but before she could backpedal, the look she had believed to have seen flash across his face was gone and he turned quickly back to the tomatoes.

"Well, you can start with the tomatoes. They need to be washed and then diced," he instructed.

Elena, not daring to say another word, nodded quickly and went to grab the tomatoes and carry them over to the sink. What was she doing? She thought to herself. They were just cooking dinner. Had she been flirting with him? Why would she be flirting with him? Her cheeks started to burn lightly in embarrassment. She prayed that he hadn't actually caught on to her coquettish tone. Hoped imploringly that he didn't think she was coming on to him. How humiliating would that be? She was a married woman, married to his boss, and after not even two days without her husband, she was already throwing sultry looks at him. These thoughts didn't help the flush that was spreading across her face one bit. They only helped to darken it. Why was she thinking about his muscular shoulders when he was just standing there? Why, when his body had pressed menacingly against hers earlier that day had she stopped to notice how great he smelled? Why, when he had been sitting next to her on the beach, had she hoped he would look at her instead of the setting sun? Stop it, she yelled at herself in her head. Just cut the damned tomatoes!

"Whoah, what did that tomato ever do to you?" his voice broke through her inner monologue. She stopped, shocked, and looked down at a small heap of mashed tomato on her cutting board.

"I'm sorry. You know I never cooked before," she tried to excuse her furious assault on the red fruit, her mind still reeling from her previous thoughts.

He only chuckled. "Well, you don't squash tomatoes, you dice them, alright?" He took the knife out of her hand carefully and diced another tomato to show her how it was done correctly. She could have just died in shame right then and there. She didn't need to know how to cook in order to be able to dice a tomato. She had just been… preoccupied. No need to explain that to him, though. So she simply nodded and smiled and took the knife back.

"You're just lucky we're making a sauce and not bruschetta," he told her with a raised eyebrow and a smile, shoving her slightly with his hip which made her chuckle and roll her eyes at him. She felt able to breathe again. And she was thankful to him for relieving the tension and not turning this situation into the awkward moment it could have been. "So how's life on the run treating you so far?" he spoke again.

"Well, I'll tell you one thing," she said with a smirk. "That movie 'The Fugitive' got it all wrong. I don't know what Harrison Ford's problem is. Being on the run is a piece of cake."

"Well, he didn't have anyone to carry him through the sewers to save his stockings," he replied in a teasing tone.

"No one asked you to live out your knight in shining armor complex. I'm just a frail woman. If you decide you need to carry me across the beach, there's nothing I can do to stop you," she said with a mock pout.

"Oh is that how you want to play this?" he smirked. "No more favors for you, then."

"Oh no, have I insulted your chivalry? How will your ego ever recover from this blow?" she was now smiling widely, quite pleased with her riposte.

"You should do that more often," he said, his features suddenly softening.

"What? Offend your ego?" Elena retorted, still smiling playfully.

"Smile," came his simple reply.

Elena's joyful expression faltered slightly as confusion seeped into her eyes. "What? I smile all the time."

"Not like that," he elaborated, motioning towards her face with the spoon he was holding. "Happy."

Elena sobered completely in an instant and turned back to her tomatoes, swallowing thickly. He had been with them for what, a few weeks? What made him think he could distinguish different smiles on her? She had exactly one smile. It was picture perfect and it was always the same. She had years of practice. "Oh really?" she asked, trying to regain her playful tone of voice. "And how would you know that? Have you been watching me, Mr. Salvatore?"

"Well, it's my job to watch you. So I will go with yes and not even feel weird about it," he returned with a smile that unexplainably dissipated all of Elena's uneasiness. "And I know it's not my place but you pretty much never smile like this. And you should. All the time."

"Maybe I only smile when you're not around. Because you aggravate me so much," she fired back, hoping to steer away from this conversation as quickly as possible.

"Yeah, that must be it," he conceded with a knowing smirk.

"All this talk is just so you don't have to reveal your big tomato sauce secrets to me, isn't it?" she pushed a little further.

"You read me like a book, Mrs. Lockwood," he returned, turning back to the other ingredients standing on the counter top next to the stove. "But obviously you are too cunning and my ruse hasn't paid off. So why don't you come over here so I can indoctrinate you in the world of the Italian cuisine?"

She was glad he dropped it so easily and happily sauntered up next to him, a little bounce in her step. "You make it sound like I'm joining a cult," she quipped while leaning against the sink.

"Well, you will worship my cooking, so there is a little truth in that, I guess," he replied with a wink.

"Oh is that so?" she returned in playful astonishment. "Well, indoctrinate away, cocky."

He smiled a pleased smile and turned back to the cutting board that held minced onions and several herbs. "Well, the beginning is no big secret, really. You heat up some olive oil and then you add onions and garlic."

Elena hadn't noticed the tiny pieces of garlic lying next to the onions. Mason always made sure to order their food without garlic. He didn't want her to have bad breath. She blushed slightly. "Well, maybe we can leave out the garlic, right?" she suggested quietly.

"Why? Do you have a hot date lined up for tonight?" he winked at her again which made her only more uncomfortable. "Don't worry. We're all eating it. You won't notice it on us, but you'd miss it in the sauce." She still didn't look convinced which only made him chuckle. "There was garlic in last night's Cannelloni," he dealt the final blow.

Elena was going to protest but was interrupted by a little voice that came from the doorway. "Mommy?" she heard it say.

She spun around to look at her son's hopeful but at the same time insecure big eyes. "What is it sweety?" she asked, hoping nothing serious was the matter.

"Can I show you something?" he asked, the courage he had had to muster up evident in his voice.

"Uhm, can this wait till later? I'm busy," she replied, glancing quickly at her bodyguard for confirmation. Jeremy didn't say anything but was still looking at her with big eyes. His left leg started to shift a little, uncomfortably, as if part of him wanted to run away while another part of him was kept in place by an invisible force.

"Oh, don't worry, Mrs. Lockwood. I'll just get started on the sauce by myself and you can squeeze all the actual cooking secrets out of me when you come back," Damon suggested, motioning with his head for her to go with her son.

She nodded her head quickly, not wanting to seem unwilling and then followed her son almost hesitantly; apprehensive of what he might want to show her. They passed the upstairs bathroom where she saw the nanny wash out the children's sandy bathing suits in the tub while humming to a tune in her head. Elena had to smile when she recognized the song from the radio and suddenly she realized that she knew nothing about this woman she spent every single day with, not even what kind of music she liked to listen to. But before the realization could turn into regret, they had reached the children's bedroom and Jeremy sprinted excitedly over to his desk, retrieved a sheet of paper and ran back to his mother to hand it at her, his eyes wide with suspense at what her reaction might be. Elena looked at the sheet filled with stick figures and for the life of her couldn't figure out what she was looking at. "That's pretty," she said with a quick smile and looked at her son. His expectant eyes told her that he had hoped for a more elaborate answer. She looked around the room awkwardly, briefly catching a glimpse of her daughter who was sitting on her bed with a sketching book in her lap and studied her curiously, undoubtedly judging her reaction. Unsure, she looked back at the drawing and finally sat down on the floor to be at eye level with her son. "What is it?" she asked, laying the paper down in front of her.

Jeremy sat down next to her eagerly. "That's you," he said and pointed to one of the figures that stood by itself in one corner of the rectangle that had brown sticks on the sides of its head and red lips. She smiled. The painted her was wearing a long blue dress and holding out her arms to both sides, one seemingly holding on to a long stick.

"And what's that in my hand?" she asked, wanting to figure out the rest of the drawing.

"That's a sword. So you can defend yourself," Jeremy said proudly. Elena looked at him in surprise but before she could say something, he spoke again. "But you don't have to. Because Damon and I will protect you." He pointed to the other side of the drawing where two stick figures, one big one and one small one, both holding swords as well, were warding off other stick figures with grim faces. Elena just stared at the illustration in front of her, speechless. "We're your supermen," he added with a proud grin, indicating the big red S-symbols that he drew on their blue shirts. "But you still get a sword. Just in case," he then concluded, looking up at his mother with a hopeful smile. As soon as his eyes landed on her face, however, his expression slipped. "What's wrong?" he asked and it was only then that Elena became aware of a tear that was slowly sneaking its way down her cheek.

"Nothing," she reassured him quickly, wiping the tear away and smiling at him brightly. "It's just so beautiful." The pride and elation returned to her son's face. "You really are my superman," she added and, not able to refrain, she pulled him in with one arm and kissed his soft hair. When she let go of him, he turned his face back up and beamed at her happily. "This will go on the fridge," she decided and picked the paper back up.

"My picture is going on the fridge!" Jeremy yelled and sprinted up to his sister's bed, jumping onto it, making her bounce involuntarily. Jenna, in return, didn't deign him with a reply but just stared down at her own drawing.

"What are you drawing?" Elena asked, encouraged by her son's enthusiasm, and got up slowly to walk over to the bed as well. Jenna let her eyes skip between her drawing and her approaching mother, without replying to her question. "May I see?" Elena continued, a little less sure of herself now. Jenna looked at her picture one more time before speaking.

"It's not really finished yet," she said in a quiet voice.

"I'm sure it's already great," Elena said, admittedly with little conviction in her voice, since she didn't want to push her daughter into anything she didn't want to do.

Jenna regarded the drawing again and then slowly lowered it onto her knees so that her mother could study it. Elena sat down on the bed next to her daughter, aware of the apprehensive look on her face. The drawing was of two people standing on a field of flowers. Jenna was still working on the man's pants. The rest of the picture looked pretty finished, however. It was of a man and a woman, holding hands and smiling, the sun, smiling as well, in the sky above them. The woman was wearing a pink dress and had wavy blonde hair that was adorned with a silver crown, while the man had dark hair that was topped by a golden crown, embellished with blue gemstones.

"What a beautiful couple," Elena commented and smiled at her daughter encouragingly. "Are they a prince and a princess?"

Jenna nodded and only spoke after quite a long while, probably needing to build up the courage. "That's me," she said, pointing towards the woman in the pink dress. "When I'm old enough to marry Damon." The girl stared at her drawing, not daring to look into her mother's face. It was only now that Elena noticed the man's eyes in the same intense blue that the crown jewels had. She smiled a little, remembering her daughter's adoring look towards their bodyguard when she was helping him in the kitchen.

"Well, you two look very happy," Elena said, carefully stroking her daughter's hair. "And that dress is absolutely gorgeous," she added with a smile. Jenna's face turned up towards her mother, a cautious smile on her lips but a jubilant sparkle in her eyes. "Should we hang it on the fridge as well?" Elena suggested and Jenna looked back down at her work, contemplating the proposal.

"I think I'll draw something else for the fridge," she finally decided.

"I'd like that," her mother answered and stroked her hair one last time.

When Caroline entered the room, she was startled to see her employer wit with her children.

"Mrs. Lockwood," she gasped. "Is everything alright? Did something happen? I only just left for a few minutes, I'm so sorry," she rambled on before being mercifully interrupted by Elena.

"Oh no, everything's perfect, Miss Forbes. Just perfect." She smiled at her daughter who had again started to work on her prince's trousers.

"Maybe we should start our stories," Caroline suggested, still unsure about what kind of a situation she had walked into.

Jeremy pouted and Jenna heaved a heavy sigh but Elena felt actually relieved to have an excuse to cut the moment they were sharing short. As much as she had loved the last minutes, they also scared and intimidated her and she needed time to collect her thoughts. As she left her children's room and walked back downstairs, her head was spinning. Her son's proud smile and hopeful eyes were making her feel elated and overwhelmed at the same time. Her daughter had somehow opened up to her, even if only a little bit. She didn't know how to deal with these new developments. She had never had an open or close relationship with her daughter. When she had started speaking but limited herself to telling her stories to her nanny, Elena had thought it was too late to strive for one. And as astounded as she was about the flicker of hope she had for her relationship with her children, she was more shocked by the reach of the connection her bodyguard had with them. They had known him for a few weeks and she was quite certain that he didn't spend much more time with them than she did, and still he had left an undeniable mark upon them. A fact that impressed her but also made her feel a small pang of jealousy. When she reached the kitchen door she studied his back for just a second. There he was, stirring the pot, having crept into her children's hearts so quickly without even trying. How did that happen? She shook off her thoughts and walked into the kitchen.

"And she's back," he stated, turning towards her with a friendly smile. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, perfect. You have my children all undecided," she added in a teasing tone.

"Really? How is that?" he asked with raised brows.

"Well they can't agree on whether you are a prince or superman," she answered, glancing into the pot.

"Who says I can't be both?" he replied with a suggestive wiggle of the eyebrow.

"My experience with men says that," she answered with a playfully arrogant smirk. "You'll most likely turn out to be neither."

"Ouch. Harsh judgment of the male species, coming from a happily married woman," he returned, turning his attention back to the simmering tomato sauce.

Well, there's married and then there's married, Elena remembered Vicki's words. For some reason she couldn't grasp, she felt like she now understood what her sister in law had meant. She decided to ask her about it later. "Not all men are like my husband," she stated, falling back into her routine of wanting to make him look good.

"No, they're not," was all Damon said in response. "Try the sauce," he then changed the subject, holding the spoon up to her lips. She looked at the red, steaming liquid and blew on it lightly, before nipping at the spoon and tasting the rich tomato flavor. She thought she could make out a hint of garlic but that was it, the rest was pure tomato. Admittedly, she was a bit disappointed. She had expected the 'exciting' sauce to be more exciting. When she raised her eyes and met his, that were studying her, she saw a look playing there for a second that she couldn't place, before his face shifted to a knowing smirk. "Not very exciting, huh?" he asked with a wink.

"I wasn't going to say anything, but…" she let the sentence trail off.

"Well, I waited for you to get the excitement started. This is just the plain tomato base. The secret to Italian cooking is in the seasoning."

"Alright, well hit me with your best seasoning secrets. This sauce needs it," she taunted him, to which he only smirked and turned towards a bunch of plants standing on the window sill.

"The problem is that most people always cook with dried herbs. Fresh herbs taste very differently. You'll see. Smell this." He came back with a small twig, adorned with tiny leafs. He ripped off a few of them and rubbed them gently between his thumb and forefinger. He closed his eyes briefly as he took in the scent before smiling and holding the crushed sprig up in front of her. She looked at him, hesitating for a second, before leaning slightly forward and drawing in a deep breath. The partly spicy, partly fresh scent hit her with a surprising force. It was followed by a brief memory of herself on a field in the countryside in the south of France, where she had been on her honeymoon with Mason, back when she thought she could be happy and the future had seemed to hold infinite possibilities for them. How far away that feeling seemed now. The memory was gone as quickly as it had popped into her head. The smell had reminded her of it, but she couldn't place it.

"Tea?" she asked, thinking it smelled like the infusion her mother had used to make for her when she was sick.

"Not bad," Damon answered with an acknowledging quirk of the lips. "It's thyme. It's often used in herbal teas. But it's also an essential ingredient in many Mediterranean dishes."

She remembered now, remembered wandering through the lavender fields in Provence and visiting an ancient monastery where she had walked through the small herb garden. She had smelled it there first and again in other places, but had never been able to place it. She was surprised that the pure smell of a plant she never knew she knew could evoke such strong recollections.

"Seasoning is simple, really," he stated. "You just need to know your basic Simon & Garfunkel."

"What?" Elena was snapped out of her reverie instantly and couldn't help but laugh lightly.

"Are you going to Scarborough Fair?" he only said in reply, enunciating it like he was reciting a poem. Elena only stared at him wide-eyed and laughed again. "You don't know Simon & Garfunkel?" he asked, almost reproachful.

"Not by heart," she returned, still laughing. "I'm surprised you do."

"What? It's a classic!" he protested. "They're not Radiohead! But then again, who is?"

"Now see, Radiohead I can picture. Goes better with the whole bad boy, leather jacket image you got going on."

"My bad boy image?" it was now his turn to look at her in astonishment. "I'm half prince, half superman, remember?"

"Goes to how what poor judges of character my children are," she replied.

"Children and drunks always speak the truth," he countered.

"Says who?"

"Says everybody! It's a proverb!" He couldn't believe she didn't know this. "First Simon & Garfunkel, now this. Where did you go to school?"

Elena swallowed back her next comeback and sobered up from the playful banter. "Well, enlighten me then. What's so special about Scarborough?"

"Well, there lives a girl there that once was his true love," Damon replied, his voice softer in reaction to her dampened attitude. "But the reason why I mention it is because of the next line. 'Are you going to Scarborough Fair? Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme'."

"Ah. Thyme!" Elena pointed to the plant sitting on the windowsill that he had taken the little twig from.

"And parsley, sage and rosemary," he added, walking up to three other plants and carrying a few leafs over to her. He broke one of the twigs in half and held it up to her again. She was met with a strong scent that smelled like the lamb in red wine sauce that François made sometimes but also had a piney note to it.

"What's that?" she asked, looking at the little needly sprig, hoping he wasn't planning on putting that in her food.

"Rosemary," he explained, before dropping the whole branch in the sauce. When Elena gasped he could only laugh. "Smell this," he said and handed her a somewhat velvety leaf. She held it up to her nose. It smelled aromatic as well, but not as intense as the thyme had. "Rub it," he advised and waited for her to slowly, cautiously roll it between her fingers. When she held up the squashed leaf this time, a heady scent hit her and he looked up at him in surprise. "That's sage," he explained.

"Like the stuff you burn?" she asked, looking at her sullied fingers in bewilderment.

"Yes. But it smells very different when it's fresh." He walked back over to the plants and got more leafs. He threw the rosemary into the sauce and put the other herbs down on his cutting board, mincing them expertly with his knife, before throwing them into the sauce as well. While letting the sauce simmer, he dropped the spaghetti into a pot with boiling water. "Close your eyes," he suddenly demanded, taking her by surprise.

"What?" she exclaimed. He rolled his eyes in amusement and turned so he stood directly in front of her.

"Close your eyes," he demanded again with emphasis in his soft voice. He was standing so close to her that she could again smell him like she had that morning, that strange mixture of aftershave and Damon Salvatore that somehow smelled different from any man she knew and at the same time gave her a sense of familiarity she couldn't explain to herself. She closed her eyes and tried to push down the heat that was rising in her cheeks at his proximity. She heard him rummage around for a short while and then smelled the tangy scent of the tomato sauce and then heard a noise that sounded like him blowing air through his lips. "Open your mouth," he said, his voice velvety and low. A small shiver ran up her spine and she parted her lips dutifully. The warm sauce hit her tongue and she could still smell the same strong taste of fresh tomatoes, but in addition she was now able to detect the rosemary and the sage, even the thyme. She wasn't sure about the parsley, but she did taste something different as well, something she couldn't place.

She opened her eyes slowly and was met by his blue ones, studying her attentively, taking every reaction on her face in. "You put something else in there," she stated, unable to disengage her eyes from his.

A smile that looked almost proud spread across his face. "I did. Can you guess what it is?" he challenged her. She thought for a second but came up empty. She shook her head. "Vanilla," he revealed, grinning when she gave him the desired reaction by looking utterly confused.

"Really?" she questioned, looking at the red sauce in the pot suspiciously.

"Exciting enough for you?" He winked and she rolled her eyes and slapped him softly across the chest. "Now the only things missing are parmesan cheese and, my grandma's all-purpose ingredient, basil. But we'll add those fresh. Why don't you get the kids and I'll set the table?"

Elena didn't answer but threw him a last smile before walking out the door and up the stairs to get the rest of their little runaway gang. The way he had said it, why don't you get the kids, had sounded almost like he was her husband and they were on vacation. This fleeting thought bothered her less than it probably should have. When she had rounded everyone up and the gang was heading back downstairs, Damon was just setting down the big bowl of spaghetti, closely followed by Bonnie who walked in from the kitchen with the sauce.

"Damon!" she heard Jeremy exclaim behind her and watched her son shoot past her, waving a sheet of paper in his hand and pushing it up to him as soon as he reached the man's legs. She saw her bodyguard smile at her son and take the paper from him to inspect it. As he turned it to have a better angle for the light, she realized that it was the picture her son had shown her earlier. "Mommy said we can put it up on the refrigerator!" Jeremy exclaimed excitedly, already pulling Damon towards the kitchen.

"Well, we certainly must," the latter exclaimed with a smile, following the little boy obediently, only turning around once to wink at Elena as if they were sharing a secret. "Those are some cool swords," she heard him say in the distance.

When everyone was seated and Jenna had successfully fought for the chair next to Damon's, the two men of the house came back and jovially joined everyone at the table. The pasta was being handed around and Damon was showing Jenna how to properly grate the parmesan over her spaghetti and how to distribute the freshly cut basil across her plate. Everyone was wearing smiles, even Vicki didn't complain about the carbs she had to yet again consume for dinner. How had this come about, Elena wondered, this weird bond they all shared in their forced but unfelt exile. Within a few days they seemed to have grown to be a family. And the most astounding and frightening thing was that the one family member who was missing was not leaving even the tiniest void.

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><p>Those were the memories and thoughts Elena was met with while she was lying in her bed, staring outside at the moon hanging low in the sky. Tomorrow they would call home. That word had never sounded more foreign to her than it did at that moment.<p>

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><p><em><strong>AN: Next chapter: Damon's POV. What does he think about all this? ;) Please review 3 Thanks! xoxo**_


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: Hi! Long time no see! *waves* I'm sorry, I was working on my other fic. Now I'm back here but I gotta tell you, this one really fought back. I only got through it – at least somewhat – because of the help and encouragement of my wonderful friend Ny. 3 that gurl! I also want to thank you all again for being sooooo supportive of this story. I'm blown away by how nice everyone's being and I really appreciate it. It's why I can never stay away too long. Love you all!_

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><p><strong>The eighth chapter, in which someone learns more<strong>

She was lying in bed, watching the sun sweep a first rose tint across the sky, listening to the waves roll against the shore in an even, soothing rhythm, to the equally regular breaths coming from the woman lying next to her. She'd had a restless night, but now her head was clear. Things had to change.

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><p>Damon was standing on the porch, a coffee mug in his hand, watching the sun rise higher in the sky, counting on the still cool early-morning breeze to clear his head. What the hell did she think she was doing, traipsing around in that see-through thingy like that? Seeing her lying on the beach in her bikini had been bad enough, but her body veiled in the sheer white fabric was an even more erotic image, pretending to hide the naked skin underneath while at the same time demanding his attention relentlessly. Fine, so she obviously belonged to the scarce group of women who were unaware of their beauty. But could she be this oblivious? Did she really not understand what it did to a man when the flimsy fabric caressed her thighs and clung to her midriff the way it did? Didn't she know that wearing just enough was much more enticing than wearing nothing? And that a man could only control his urges up to a certain point? He couldn't understand how she could be so ignorant of her attractiveness and the effect she had on everyone around her. Even if men normally didn't dare approach her and she mistook it for disinterest, even if others were put-off by her seemingly distant demeanor, like he had been at first, even if that was the case, surely at least her husband had to tell her just how lovely, how exquisite she was. Surely he had to tell her every day. Damon couldn't imagine being married to a woman like her and not letting her know every minute of every day how breathtaking she was.<p>

Thinking back to when he first met her, he couldn't recall why he hadn't seen it right away. He could only imagine that her eyes must have been duller, that for some reason she had begun to look at him with more intensity now; he thought he remembered her movements to be snappier, full of fidgety insecurity and reserve, not the languid, sensual movements she made now. She had looked aloof and disinterested always, while he now saw longing in her eyes – longing when she watched her kids or when she looked at the sunset. And – dare he believe that he hadn't imagined it? – longing when she had looked up at him with wide eyes while he had pressed her against the wall during their little instruction in self-defense, his knee between her legs, feeling the heat from her thighs envelop his and her chest heaving from the adrenalin rush, pushing her breasts ever so slightly against him.

Then, when they had cooked together, and he had watched her purse her lips to blow on the hot sauce, had observed her face as she was savoring the smell of herbs or the taste of fresh tomato, he had been this close to running his fingers over her plump lips, along her graceful neck and through her silky hair. That woman was going to be the death of him and she wasn't even trying. Maybe that was it. Maybe his instincts were baser than he had always esteemed and he liked her precisely because she wasn't trying. Maybe he was a hunter after all, like they said in those superficial and repetitive articles on how men are and what they think, craving the chase, intrigued only by what they can't have. Or maybe he was just a sucker for seemingly unhappy women, wanting to be the one who made everything right in the world again; that would certainly explain a lot, he mused while reluctantly reminiscing about the past. But he couldn't help but feel that this was different. He didn't really feel excited by the challenge, had never been one to go after women he couldn't have (not that there were many), didn't really feel better at the thought of being her savior. There was probably some truth to the fact that she was a beautiful woman and they were locked up in a cabin together for an indeterminate amount of time; he was a man after all. But even that wasn't the biggest part of what he felt attracted him in her. It was the feeling that there was more to her, so much more, than she let people see and he wanted to discover it all. The longing he saw creep into her eyes at times, the fire that shot into them when she got angry or excited, the warmth that they exuded during very rare moments, all those made him believe that the woman he knew and already liked was only a shell of the woman she hid underneath. And he was pretty sure that that woman was spectacular.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by the noise of feet trampling down the porch steps and girlish laughter. He turned around, surprised, only to see Bonnie and Elena pass him, oblivious of his presence, and jog down the beach. He smiled lightly. So she was serious then, about working out and about defending herself. He liked that. He didn't, however, like that she was wearing skin-tight pants and nothing but a sports bra. How was that supposed to help his situation? He watched the women run to the far end of the beach before turning around and coming back. Bonnie was slightly ahead of Elena, the latter wisely following her own pace and not trying to keep up with her far more athletic instructor. About halfway down the beach, he saw Elena notice his presence, believed to have seen a somewhat startled expression and maybe a little blush, but she was too far away still to be certain and also any red color in her face would most likely stem from the exertion. She jogged past him giving him a quick smile but otherwise bowing her head. He quickly finished his coffee and headed back inside the house. Any hope of clearing his head out there shot to hell anyways.

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><p>Just as he stepped out of the shower and got ready to prepare breakfast for everyone, there was a knock on the door of his room. When he opened it, Bonnie was smiling up at him.<p>

"Morning, you," he said with a smile, relaxing against the doorframe.

"Morning," she returned. "So I'm done with Elena's morning workout and stretching. You could take over for the self-defense part."

"Elena?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Yeah. Our boss," Bonnie clarified teasingly while turning around and heading back to her room.

"Oh I know. Since when do we call her 'Elena'?" he asked, following her and pushing both hands against the doorframe, effectively trapping her inside her room.

"Since she offered," Bonnie replied nonchalantly while taking off her shirt.

"Mrs. Lockwood asked you to call her Elena?" he asked incredulous, following Bonnie with his eyes as she stepped out of her jogging pants and grabbed a towel.

"Yeah. What, didn't she ask you, lover-boy?" she said over her shoulder before closing the door to her en suite bathroom.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He was annoyed now and it was audible in his tone. He walked into the room and up to the closed door. "Hey!" He called, knocking on the wood with the pad of his fist. "When did that even happen?" To no avail; Bonnie decided to ignore him and turn the water on instead.

"Fine," he conceded begrudgingly. "Where is she?"

And suddenly Bonnie had found her voice again. "Behind the house. I figured a little more privacy would be nice. Don't want to scare the kids and all."

Great. Privacy. Just what he needed with the married woman he so badly wanted to get naked. He rolled his eyes. "You're making breakfast," he called and left the room.

As he came around the corner, he was stopped in his tracks. Bonnie might have been done with the stretching part and he had been glad to hear it, seeing his boss spread and stretch her limber legs was really the last thing he needed right now, but there she was, doing just that. She was facing away from him towards the cliff that rose on this side of the house, her right leg lifted up on the railing that encompassed the porch and clutching her foot with her right hand. Her left arm was above her head, leaning towards her right foot as well and thus simultaneously stretching her right leg and her left side. Damon shook his head. This job was turning into a disaster.

"Morning, Mrs. Lockwood," he said from behind her.

She spun around instantly, probably too quickly for the stretch she had been in. Her arms were covered in a slight sheen from the previous exercise; the pumping blood tinted her cheeks in an alluring pink shade and her lips in a kissable deep red. She looked altogether too good for having just finished a workout. "Hi," she answered, sounding almost insecure. "Morning." He watched her fidget with her hands uncertainly. "Listen," she finally started. "I was thinking, with us all living together – in such close proximity – here – it feels weird, no? To be so formal? So I was thinking maybe – if you don't mind, that is – I'd like for everyone to call me Elena."

A smile spread across his face. "I'd like that," he said, quietly, resulting in a relieved smile on her part. "I'm Damon, by the way," he mock-introduced himself and held out his hand. When she laid her delicate hand into his, he raised it and blew an airy kiss on her knuckles, making her blush faintly and look up at him coyly through thick lashes.

"You ready to kick my ass?" he shifted gears and was glad when he saw a smile adorn her face in response.

"Always," she acquiesced and with that the mood was lightened.

"Let's finish what we started yesterday, okay?" She nodded and he motioned for her to lean against the wall. He positioned himself in front of her, one hand over her throat, one hand holding hers together under her chin, his leg between hers, his torso so close to hers that he effectively incapacitated her. He made a point of not actually standing as close as he had yesterday. He had gotten a little carried away, had actually pushed her up against the wall, pressing his body against hers. He wasn't going to do that today, no matter how enticing the idea was. This was only for demonstrative purposes. "So," he started. "What's the bad news about this?"

"I can't move anything," she stated firmly and he smiled.

"Fine. What's the good news about this?" He looked at her expectantly. She looked like she was thinking hard but failing to come up with anything. Finally a little light turned on inside her head. Her face looked elated for one second and then a bashful blush was creeping up in her cheeks. What's coming now? He wondered.

"You can't rape me because you'd have to let go of my hands to undo my pants," she said assertively and he had to smile a little. Proud, because she had figured it out, not exactly what he was going for, but close enough to the essence of it, and also because she had obviously felt uncomfortable and powered through it like a trooper.

"Exactly," he confirmed. "More good news: I can't grab a weapon, I can't beat you, I can't take anything from you; I'd have to release either your hands or your head to do any of those things. Best news though: I can't choke you."

"You _are_ choking me," she debated and he had to chuckle.

"Well, technically, yes. But I don't have enough power in one hand to kill you." Understanding flashed in her eyes and she nodded. It was an okay-what-next-nod and Damon liked that she was so eager to learn, instead of being squeamish about the possibility of being choked to death. "Okay so an attacker will very likely not release your hands, if he's not after choking you right then and there." He took his hand off her neck, instructing her in a little tactic called breaking your attacker's nose with your forehead. "That's if they're dumb enough to stand close to you," he explained and then took a step back, straightening the arm that was crushing her wrists against her chest a little. "Now what?"

Elena didn't even hesitate a second but jotted her knee up, gunning for his crotch. However, before she could reach it, Damon pressed his legs together, catching hers midway and successfully incapacitating it. She huffed in annoyance. "I didn't look this time," she pouted and he had to smile, because at least she had learned something and also because that pout was just too darn cute.

"True, but believe me, men are always and I mean always defensive of their junk. Going after it is always risky. You will never surprise us by attacking that area. Right now, you're stuck. It'd be very easy for me to push you down on the floor now. You don't want to give me that upper hand." She nods in defeat, a little annoyed, and he releases her leg, starting over. "If you do want to kick me, don't kick high. It takes longer and it makes you lose your balance." Elena nods again. "Your best bet is to kick my shin as hard as possible and to get back to standing on both feet as quickly as possible. Not now!" he quickly added as he saw her leg twitch and a smirk spread across her face. "It hurts. Badly. If you're lucky, he'll bend over or at least be thrown a little off balance." Elena nodded again.

"Have you ever been kicked in the shin?" she asked and the earnest look on her face made him laugh a little.

"Many times. And in many other places, too," he revealed, trying not to wince at the memory.

She seemed to consider this for a moment. "How long have you been doing this?" she then continued her questioning. He had to smirk at the absurdity of the situation, him pinning her against the wall and her wanting to chit-chat about his life.

"I've been a personal bodyguard ever since I turned twenty-one. You have to be of legal drinking age so they let you into all the establishments your bosses want to go into," he elaborated. She frowned lightly at the thought of what kind of establishments some people might want to go into. But her mood lightened again, quickly.

"Have you ever protected anyone really famous?"

"I have," he confirmed with a conspiratorial tone. "But I couldn't tell you. Someone might come and kill me."

"Oh, I'm sure you would defeat anyone they'd send after you," she teased and he had to laugh.

"Well, obviously," he agreed. And then, suddenly, a thrilled, mischievous look jumped into her eyes. "What?" he asked, wary, waiting for a new, probably more tricky question. He could see the wheels in her head turning and then, suddenly, she yanked her hands downwards and pulled them apart at the same time and Damon's hand whipped off them. He was startled for a second and then saw her equally surprised eyes, surprised and delighted that she actually pulled it off, and he had to laugh. "Nice!" he complimented. "Very nice." And he adored the gleeful smile that spread across her face.

Too bad it won't last long, he thought to himself, standing in a relaxed posture, his hands resting on his hips, looking up at her boyishly from under long lashes, smiling an impressed smile, before he suddenly sprang forward, catching her off guard, pushing her against the wall by her shoulders and then closing both hands around her neck. He was standing close to her now, so close he could feel her erratic breath on his face. Her eyes were locked with his and wide with shock, but not fear. And it impressed him. "Damn," she muttered and it made him chuckle.

"You have twenty seconds before you pass out," he announced. She only thought for a second before attacking his solar plexus, unsuccessfully and trying to kick him, equally unsuccessfully. "Five," he announced and he could see her mind reeling now, her movements getting frantic. She grabbed his fingers, hectically, foolishly, as a last resort and tried to pry them from her neck. She could tell it wasn't working. He wasn't even trying very hard and she didn't have a shot in hell. Slowly he leaned forward, until she became aware of his looming presence and stopped fidgeting, looking at him with expectant yet wary eyes. "You're dead," he said in a low voice, only inches from her face, before releasing her neck.

"You're enjoying this far too much," she complained while rubbing her neck. "Fine, Yoda, teach me. What do I do?"

"That was low," he grumbled, playing hurt. "I'm not that short, nor that bald." And with a grin he approached her again. She smiled as well and he was glad they had fallen into this pattern of easy banter. Her cold demeanor, her chiding tone and the usage of surnames were ways to keep everyone at a safe distance, he knew, and they worked marvelously as well. What he didn't understand was why she was so determined to keep everyone out. And therefore these small gestures of camaraderie excited him. It felt like he was one step closer to meeting the real Elena, the one that wasn't only Mrs. Lockwood. And he was very much looking forward to it.

Without hesitation, she leaned back against the wall and let him put his fingers back around her neck. "Now," Damon started over with a teasing smirk, "use your girly weapons."

"Excuse me?" He could see the affronted spark in her eyes. He had known this would be the reaction he'd get and he hadn't been able to help himself. Getting a rise out of her was just too damn tempting.

"If I'm close enough, you want to hit my solar plexus or my larynx. Break my nose, if you can. But if I'm too far away, there's one very effective way that people always think is stupid but let me tell you, it works. Pinch me."

"Pinch you?" she sounded underwhelmed.

"Yeah. On my inner upper arm. As hard as you can. I guarantee you, it's excruciating." He let go of her neck with one hand and pointed to the skin on the inside of his other arm. Tentatively, she stretched out her hand until she reached the silky pad of skin, letting a finger graze over it experimentally and he couldn't help but relish in the soft touch. "Please don't actually pinch me," he pleaded. "With your manicure you'll probably be able to draw blood."

She smiled and withdrew her hand quickly as he relinquished his hold on her neck. She threw a disapproving glance at her nails. "Well, this manicure is dead," she stated, more like a fact than a complaint.

"You'll get a better one when we get back," he assured her with a smile and she nodded, even though she didn't seem as enthusiastic as he had thought she'd be.

With a sigh she sat down, leaning against the wall and grabbed her water bottle. "So, twenty-one, huh? That seems young to be a bodyguard."

"It is," he replied, sitting down next to her and staring at the wall of rock that was towering above them.

"So… how did that come about?" she asked hesitantly.

He sighed. For a woman who didn't like to get personal, she sure liked to ask everyone else a lot of questions. It wasn't like he really minded. Just because he didn't tell anyone didn't mean that he kept it a secret. Plus, there was something about her expression, an openness to it as she asked him, that made him think that her knowing anything about him, even knowing everything about him, wasn't a bad thing. "Well I was always into martial arts," he began. "Started when I was eight. Then, after I graduated, I enlisted right away. My father had been a marine, it was sort of expected. I did well in the army. My experience in fighting and shooting helped. My father had taken us hunting, my brother and me, as soon as my mother would let him. As soon as I was twenty, I applied for Special Forces training and I got in. I completed the first few courses and then… I deserted."

He let that information sink in for a while. "Why?" he heard Elena ask and he believed it to be an interested why, not a judging one; hoped he was right.

"Depends on who you ask," he replied with a smirk meant to be aloof but only missing sad by a hair's breadth. "If you ask my father, it's because I'm a coward. Who knows, maybe I was. But I had a fiancé back home, we were expecting a child, and I had to take care of my brother, even though my father never believed he actually needed taking care of – he was always so blind to everything. I just figured they needed me more than my country did. Maybe I was wrong, probably even, but that's why I left." They were quiet for a while. He could see Elena try and fit all the new pieces of information into what she already knew of him and figured she was probably failing miserably. It was never easy for people who met him now to console their impression of him with what they learned when they found out about his past. "Anyways," he finally continued, "I got lucky, somewhat, didn't have to serve time, was only punished with a dishonorable discharge and got to go back home. My father of course never spoke to me again, but I guess that was actually an upside to the whole thing. I started going to college and a friend got me a job working as a bodyguard so I could pay my rent and my tuition. That's how it started and then I kind of stuck with it."

Elena was just about to get started on a tirade of follow-up questions, when they heard energetic footsteps round the corner. "Hey guys," came Bonnie's cheerful voice. "Breakfast time."

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: Dun…dun…dun… **__**A what and a what? ;) Let me know what you think. Xoxo**_

_**P.S.: Come talk to me on twitter, if you're bored: ceruleanvixen**_


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: Little announcement for those of you who are unhappy with the lack of smut in this story: I have tried my hand at an M-rated Delena one-shot and it is called "Never Let Go" and you can find it on my profile. So if any of you are interested in seeing what sexytimes written by me look like, there you go ;) Other than that, I just want to thank each and every one of you who is still with me on this one. Love you guys! You're my inspiration!_

_P.S.: I don't own TVD, if I did, "Never Let Go" would be episode one of season four._

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><p><strong>The ninth chapter, in which bridges are built<strong>

She was sitting on the sofa by the fireplace, pretending to concentrate on a book she was holding in her hands but unable to do so. Mainly, because Vicki was on the phone talking to Tyler in an endless flood of words, like she did, talking about the wonderful beach and the house, how she had felt like a pro spy, driving on the deserted forest road leading to the secluded bay and how dreadful it was that Damon made her eat carbs for dinner and that she hoped Ty would still love her if she returned home twice her size. Elena couldn't suppress a roll of the eyes. But the main point why she was distracted was her short talk with Damon that morning. She had gotten up with the resolve to find out more about the people she was living with. Odd as it sounded, having lain in bed all night and thinking of the previous days, especially their dinners together, this house had already started to feel more like a home than the Lockwood Mansion ever had. Or more homely, at least. Standing in the kitchen, preparing food that everyone later ate, all sitting around the table talking, smiling, joking together, hearing her kids laugh and play, the chatter of voices around the house, it all made her sad that she didn't have this at home. She had never known that Caroline was one to hum while attending to her chores, but now that she did, she loved the soft noise trailing through the wooden floorboards. She enjoyed hearing her bodyguards banter with each other, obviously old friends with a deep love and respect for each other and an easy rapport that she didn't have with anyone she knew. And she had decided to make an effort to be a part of it, at least as long as she could bear it. And even though the prospect of getting to know people scared her, because it would inevitably also mean letting them in, she couldn't help but feel that it had been the right choice. She had gotten along with Bonnie right away, the spunky girl had smiled a bright smile and agreed whole-heartedly when Elena had offered up her first name. She was chatty without being overbearing and had told Elena tidbits about her childhood, especially her fascinating but somewhat quirky grandmother, during their morning workout. She hadn't yet asked any questions herself and Elena was glad. Damon had been different. She had assumed talking about the job would have been an easy topic, safe, but the opposite was the case. It had opened a Pandora's Box of family issues and she didn't know where to start sorting them. What had struck her most, however, had been his mention of a fiancé and the fact that they had been expecting a child. She remembered their first night here, she had asked him if he had children and he had said no. She had noticed something like regret or sadness or maybe hesitation flicker across his face, but hadn't thought about it then. And now there was talk of a child. What had happened to it? And a fiancé. Hadn't he said he wasn't married? At some point? She thought to remember that, but she wasn't sure.

"I'm done!" Vicki announced gleefully, effectively pulling Elena out of her thoughts, and pointed to the phone.

Hesitantly, Elena moved over and took Vicki's spot next to the phone, waiting for it to ring. That was the arrangement. The men went to the police department at a specific time and then they called from there, so the call couldn't be traced. They got ten minutes each. Elena still felt unsettled. She had felt torn about this phone call and she hadn't reached a conclusion yet. Was she looking forward to speaking with Mason or wasn't she? How could such a simple question weigh so heavy on her?

The phone rang and Elena picked up the receiver, her heart heavier than she wanted it to be.

"Hey," she said, trying to sound as happy as possible.

"Hey, pumpkin," came his voice and she felt like hanging up again right away. "How are you?"

She swallowed down her annoyance. "I'm good. Good. Everything's fine. The place is beautiful."

"I'm glad to hear it. The kids doing okay?" he asked.

"Yes. They think we're on vacation." She smiled, picturing her children playing in the sand right now. "How are you?"

"I'm good. I miss you."

"I miss you too," she returned, automatically. So many of their interactions had become automatic, she realized. Returning his 'I love you's, leaning into his embraces, pressing her lips against his, smiling at him, that picture-perfect smile of hers. It had all become habitual. Every touch of his elicited a routine response from her. Always the same one, mechanical. She had never realized this until now, had thought their life together had become comfortable and simply followed a pattern, but really her responses to him now were only replications of what they used to be and he was simply unable to tell the difference.

"I have some bad news, sweety," he then started.

"Why? What's wrong?" she was concerned now.

"I know we said I would try and come on the weekend. But I won't be able to make it. Tyler neither. This project is just killing us."

She sighed. "The Michaelsons?" she asked. Her husband had been complaining about them for weeks.

"Yes. I swear, they should be in organized crime. It's just tough, negotiating with these people. They demand more than we could possibly give."

"I'm sorry," she said, not really knowing what else to say. Truth be told, her husband's business affairs had never really interested her.

"You're so wonderful. I'm really sorry I have to cancel like this. You're the best wife in the world." She could hear rustling on the other end of the line, something like cloth rubbing against other cloth and maybe a chair being moved and she knew that he was already getting ready to go. Their ten minutes weren't up yet, but quite honestly, what else was there to say?

"Don't worry about it," she reassured him and to her own surprise, she meant it. Him not being able to come was really less of a blow than it should be.

"Thank you honey. I knew you'd understand. I gotta go. But I'll talk to you next week."

"Sure," she replied.

The rustling stopped for a second, as if he was taking his time for the final words, before rushing out of the office. She could just picture him, already standing next to the desk, hunched over a little so as to not pull on the phone cord too much, his briefcase in hand, his elbow already extended as if that would make the process of hanging up quicker. "I love you," he said. And he sounded earnest; she had to give him that.

"Love you too," she replied. Automatic.

* * *

><p>"What'cha doin'?" she startled him out of his thoughts, appearing out of thin air from behind him, leaning against him now, her face resting against his bicep that was bulging slightly from him crossing his arms.<p>

"Nothing," he replied defensively. Not true of course. He'd been watching her. Had been watching her sitting on the couch, talking on the phone, looking like seven days of rain. Her fingers were fiddling with the hem of her shirt and she was staring at them while talking or rather listening. He would have thought a call from her husband would have made her happy or rather, he had wished it would. Believing she was happy in her marriage would have made his desires easier to deal with. Knowing she was happy would have discouraged him. Knowing she was unhappy only made him want to do everything in his power to change that. And he was pretty sure that wasn't a good idea.

"It's a bad idea," Bonnie now said, still pressed into his side.

"What is?" he asked, feigning ignorance. She bumped her elbow into his side with a slight scoff. Fair enough. They both knew exactly what she was talking about.

"Just don't let your life be ruined by a pretty brunette. Again," she warned.

"Careful or I'll think you're jealous," he teased with a smirk.

"Please," she said mockingly. "I know when I don't stand a chance. You two are painfully obvious."

"You're just imagining things. There's nothing going on."

"Just because you're not actually sleeping together doesn't mean you're not constantly undressing each other in your heads," she argued.

"We're not," he objected.

"You're doing it right now," she said with a laugh and he averted his eyes from their boss quickly, now looking at his friend. "And she's doing it too, believe me." She gave him a conspirative look. "And you make her smile," she said, her eyes warmer now.

"So do you," he returned. "You guys are constantly giggling about girly stuff. It's really quite annoying."

She shook her head lightly, lovingly annoyed with his opposition. "I make her smile because she's having fun. You make her smile because she's feeling happy. I'm sure you can see the difference when she looks at you."

He could. He had just hoped it wasn't true. He had also hoped it was. He was selfish like that. "It's a bad idea," he finally relented.

"Something being a bad idea has never stopped you before," Bonnie debated.

"Why do I get the feeling you're trying to talk me into this?" He frowned deeply at her.

"Because you wish I would. I'm actually warning you. I can see it in your eyes. Both of you. And it really is a bad idea." She left him standing there and walked through the living room and into the kitchen.

* * *

><p>Elena was standing by the window of her bedroom. She had only wanted to grab a shawl but then the sight of her kids running around in the sand, squealing, had caught her attention. Suddenly she felt arms snake around her waist and a chin rest lightly on her shoulder.<p>

"They're not coming," she heard Vicki's pouty voice and leaned into her friend's embrace.

"No, they're not," she confirmed.

"We're married to dicks," the other woman stated and Elena had to laugh.

"I thought you'd be relieved. More time to hit on our bodyguard," Elena replied mockingly.

"You'd think that, wouldn't you?" Vicki said releasing her friend and letting herself plump down on the bed. "But I miss Ty." Elena turned around, leaning against the window sill and looked at her friend with a smile. "It's weird, isn't it? I guess it's true what they say. Distance makes the heart grow fonder. Don't you think?"

Elena looked back out the window, watching her kids. What could she say? It certainly wasn't true for her. But of course that didn't mean that it couldn't be true for someone else. "I'm glad you guys are working things out," was what she finally settled on.

"Me too," Vicki agreed, sounding slightly surprised. "Speaking of that bodyguard though, I'm going to see if he needs help… Someone to bench-press, maybe." And with a smirk she got up.

Elena had to laugh. "I thought you just said things with you and Tyler were going better," she said, half joking and half reprimanding.

"Doesn't mean I'm not allowed to look," Vicki returned with a meaningful look before leaving the room.

Elena stood there, shaking her head to herself. Something inside her rebelled at the thought of Vicki spending time with their bodyguard and 'looking' at him. It's not right, she told herself, she's married. She shouldn't be hitting on another man. For a minute she contemplated going after her, making sure that Damon wouldn't be put in an uncomfortable position. He can take care of himself, she told herself, still leaning against the window sill. He was a guy after all; he probably enjoyed the attention he was getting. Again, she felt something inside of her curl at the thought. Would he go for it, if Vicki was persistent enough? Would he be charmed by her? She's not his type, Elena told herself. She's not what he is looking for in a woman. He has never been tempted by someone he was working for, she heard him say. She shook her head. All these thoughts were getting her nowhere. Besides, she had something else to do. And with that she grabbed her shawl and went downstairs.

* * *

><p>Her naked feet sank into the warm sand. She felt the grains squeeze through the gaps between her toes and tickle her skin when they rolled of her feet again. With a smile on her face she started walking towards the group playing in the sand.<p>

"Hey guys, mind if I join?" she asked.

"Mommy!" came the enthusiastic response from her son. He jumped up and clutched at her skirt with sandy hands. "We're building a castle!" he explained.

"I can see that," she confirmed, smiling widely and running her hand through his hair. "It's enormous!"

"It's going to be the biggest sandcastle in the world," Jenna explained seriously.

"It sure looks like it could be," Elena agreed and let herself drop unceremoniously into the sand, throwing a quick smile into the nanny's direction, who was smiling back at her happily. "What can I do?" she asked, assessing the sandy structure.

"We have to make a moat," Jeremy stated and started digging with his tiny hands. She regarded her still passably manicured fingers. And, judging that it would soon start crackling anyways, she started digging into the beach next to her son.

Her fingers raked through the sand, warm on top but cooling quickly the deeper she dug, until she reached a somewhat soggy layer. She felt the grains cling to her fingers and get stuck under her nails, but the squeals of delight that came from her son as he pushed his hands into the sand made up for everything. "We have to make it bigger, mommy!" he insisted. "Make it bigger!" She couldn't suppress a laugh, watching him crouched down in the sand, fighting against the masses that were pouring off the sides and back into the newly dug moat.

"Mom?" she heard Jenna's voice next to her and turned to see her daughter standing at arm's length, looking at her apprehensively. "Will you help me decorate it?" The little girl looked at her with big eyes, her hands twisted nervously into the front of her dress, as if waiting for a no but dreaming of a yes. Elena's heart constricted inside her chest.

"Of course I will," she said and smiled at her daughter encouragingly.

A wide grin spread across the girl's face and she let go of the cloth she had been clinging to. She suddenly turned around and ran towards the water, only to stop a few steps later and turn to look at her mother expectantly. "Come on, we need to collect shells," she called and waved her hands in a summoning motion. Elena got up and followed her daughter quickly. When she reached her, to her own surprise, the little girl closed her small hand around hers and pulled her with her towards the water, already pointing at pink and blue seashells that had been washed ashore. They gathered shells into their skirts until Jenna was satisfied that they would suffice to decorate the castle, while Caroline and Jeremy completed the moat. It was a deep ditch surrounding the entire structure. Jeremy was working on a connection to the ocean now, so that they might fill their creation with actual water. His tiny feet dug into the soft sand, making him sink in almost to his knees. His rolled up jeans were wet, his hair was full of sand from when he had tried to push it out of his face with his hands. He was working hard and Elena could hear the little grunts coming from him as he heaved heap after heap of sand out of the ditch.

They all sat down around the castle and placed seashells around the towers and on the merlons. After a first bout of eager working however, Jenna stopped decorating and mostly turned the shells around in her hands.

"Look mom, they're so pretty," she said and held up a pink conch for Elena to look at.

"Yes, they're beautiful," Elena agreed while placing a piece of driftwood over the moat to double as a drawbridge.

"Hey Jenna," Caroline interjected, "if you want to, I'll show you how to make necklaces from them after dinner."

Jenna's eyes instantly widened. "Can we, mom?"

"Of course. That sounds wonderful," Elena approved and the smile on Jenna's face could have lit up the whole beach. "Thank you, Caroline. That's very nice of you," she added and a second beaming smile cast its glow over their little gathering.

"How is the construction coming along, ladies?... And gent?" came Damon's voice from behind them.

Before anyone else was able to respond, Jeremy had jumped up and came running over to them. "Look, Damon! I made a moat. I'm almost at the water." He grabbed at the man's jeans with his sandy fingers and Elena was about to scold him for it, when she heard Damon's deep laugh rumble merrily over the beach. He leaned down slightly and ran a hand over her son's messy hair.

"It looks amazing!" he praised and took Jeremy's tiny hand in his big one. "Let's finish that moat, huh buddy?" And together they walked down to where Jeremy's efforts had almost reached the lapping waves and Damon took off his shoes, rolled up his jeans and crouched next to Jeremy, digging into the moist sand and finishing the ditch's path towards the ocean. When a slow stream of water finally seeped into their canal and surrounded the castle, Jeremy jumped up, throwing his small fists in the air and whooped in excitement.

"We did it!" he exclaimed and ran over to the three women still putting the last decorative touches on their masterpiece.

"You guys need a flag or something," Damon stated, wiping his hands off on his pants.

"I know!" Jeremy called again and sped away towards the house. Elena got up and inspected their design from a higher viewpoint. Jeremy came running back only moments later, waving something in his hand and when Elena realized what it was, all color drained from her face.

"Jeremy, those are Vicki's bikini bottoms," she stated rather than doing what she was going for, namely scolding him

"I know. They're gold. It's perfect," the little boy stated proudly and tied the panties to a stick he found lying in the sand. Elena was shocked but Damon started laughing loudly right beside her.

"Well, you can't argue with that logic," he finally said into her ear.

"Of course you would approve," she reprimanded him, smacking a hand lightly against his chest. But she couldn't keep a small smile off her face. "I think you have a bad influence on my children," she mused.

"Well I think I have a great influence on you, so that evens the score," he replied with a wink and then turned to the rest of the group again. "Come on guys, dinner's ready. Let's go."

Jeremy jumped up after having pushed the makeshift flag into the highest tower of their edifice and leaped into Damon's arms who picked him up lightly and carried him back towards the house, the boy's wet and dirty feet pressing into his sides.

Elena let her eyes linger on the retreating men for a while but was startled out of her reverie when she felt a small hand hesitantly slipping into hers. "You coming, mom?" Jenna asked, looking up at her with big eyes.

"Yeah, let's go," she returned and closed her hand securely around her daughter's.

* * *

><p>After dinner, Damon lit a fire and Bonnie and Vicki started lounging and reading on one of the sofas. Caroline had brought her sewing kit and Jenna had picked the prettiest shells to make jewelry with. Elena sat with them and watched as Caroline told the little girl how to carefully puncture holes into the shells with needles.<p>

Jeremy, who had been playing on the rug in front of the fireplace, suddenly came up to them and tugged on his nanny's dress. "Miss Caroline, can you read me a story?" he demanded, making his best puppy eyes at her.

"Oh sweety, I'm just making some necklaces with your sister, then I'll read you a story, okay?" the blonde asked, her voice like honey.

"But I want a story now," Jeremy pouted.

Damon, who just came out of the kitchen bringing tee for everyone, stroked the boy's head lightly. "Haven't you learned how to read in school yet?" he asked, setting down the pot on the table.

"Sure I have!" Jeremy stated. "Mister Tanner says I'm really good at it, too," he added with pride.

"Really? How about you read me a story then?" he proposed and the desire in Jeremy to prove himself was sparked.

"But I pick the story," the boy yelled while already running up the stairs to get a book.

"That's very nice of you, but you don't have to do that," Elena stated, touching his forearm lightly for emphasis.

"Don't worry," he returned. "It's my pleasure." And at that Jeremy was already stomping down the wooden stairs again, waving a book in his hand. The two of them settled onto the second couch in front of the fire, Damon stretched out, leaning against the armrest and Jeremy curled up beside him, resting against his chest. The boy flipped open the book and started to read, slowly and haltingly but enthusiastically, every once in a while showing Damon a picture and pointing out things in the image. Damon looked into the book, seemingly captivated, helping Jeremy out with the difficult words. At one point, he unconsciously stroked his hand across the boy's forehead, wiping his hair out of his eyes. Elena could only sit there and gaze. It was such a perfect picture, it made her ache.

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><p><em>AN: I have noticed that the longer I write this story, the less my Damon is like TVD!Damon. And I'm sorry, but it is the way it is. Can't make the characters do anything they don't want to do. I hope you can live with that and still enjoy this story :) Thanks for reading! xoxo_


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: Alright, here it is, the tenth chapter. Thanks you guys, for still being on this journey with me and giving me the encouragement I need to keep going. In case anyone is still wondering, I don't own TVD. Also, the lyrics I'm using in this chapter are from the Leonard Cohen Song "Dance me to the end of love". Alright. Ready? Here we go._

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><p><strong>The tenth chapter, in which there is dancing and then there isn't<strong>

They spent the next week in this manner. Elena would work out with Bonnie in the mornings. They had now moved on to actual martial arts instructions and Bonnie was showing her kicks and punches which Elena relentlessly repeated. After lunch they would continue with defensive techniques. Elena was a fast learner and worked hard, but even so, actual progress was slow. The sheer feeling of taking her life in her own hands however gave Elena a sense of empowerment well worth all the aching muscles. At night they would make dinner together. Elena and Damon were almost always manning the kitchen, often the kids would help and everybody participated from time to time. Even Vicki had taken to helping out at least some of the nights. Elena assumed she was simply too bored to not help, but maybe she was also enjoying herself while ogling their bodyguard. After all, there were few things sexier than Damon Salvatore in the kitchen. After dinner they would gather in the living room and play or read. Sometimes Elena would head out for late walks on the beach, accompanied by either Bonnie, Caroline or Vicki. She was forming an easy rapport with the girls and felt glad at having formed those new friendships. Who'd have thought that it could be easy and not come with pain?

On Wednesday, the husbands called again, yet again cancelling on their weekend plans. It should have upset Elena, especially on this weekend, but in reality it didn't even faze her and that didn't surprise her anymore either. Vicki was another story. She spent her ten minutes yelling at Tyler that she couldn't believe he missed her so little. Elena could just imagine him sitting on the other end of the phone line, rubbing his eyes and trying to calm her down, telling her that he missed her just as much as she missed him and that he wished he could be there with her but that circumstances were stacking against them and that she needed to understand.

"You're the best," was all Mason said when Elena accepted his cancellation and she could have cried because what he interpreted as understanding was really indifference.

Vicki slipped into a bad mood and no amount of sunshine and good food could bring her out of it so when Friday came around, everyone was surprised when she announced: "We should have a party."

"A party?" Elena asked, somewhat taken aback.

"Yes a party!" Vicki confirmed. "It's Friday night for God's sake. We've been holed up here for like an eternity! Plus, I found the good stuff," Vicki said with a broad smile and produced a bottle of vodka from behind her back.

"Where'd you find that?" Damon asked, suddenly standing next to them and alert. Elena thought she saw something like worry bordering on anger on his face.

"It's not like I was snooping around," Vicki defended herself. "It was in the night stand."

Damon only stood for a while, glaring at the bottle like he would burn it if he could. "Fine. Drink it," he finally said, almost like it was an order instead of a permission, and walked out of the room briskly. Elena followed him with her eyes, unable to place the rage she felt rolling off his receding form. Vicki, happily oblivious to the shift in mood (or possibly simply ignoring it) bounced off into the kitchen to get glasses. From the corner of her eye, Elena saw Bonnie follow after Damon.

"Drinks!" Vicki exclaimed, coming back into the room, the bottle in one hand and empty glasses in the other.

"We haven't even had dinner yet," Elena half chided and half laughed.

"Fine, you make dinner, I start drinking," Vicki agreed with a wink and plonked down on one of the sofas.

Make dinner… Yes, Elena had helped out in the kitchen over the last two weeks but she didn't think she could make a dinner for a bunch of people by herself. She looked around helplessly for a while but no help was forthcoming. Vicki had poured herself a glass and hid behind a book Elena doubted she was actually reading. Caroline was sitting on the floor, playing with the kids. The only people who she deemed able to plan and prepare an entire meal were in Damon's bedroom. Presumably talking about his aversion to vodka. She heaved a sigh and made her way down the dark corridor, hoping to be able to motivate at least one of them to help her. When she stood in front of the door, her hand perched to knock, she heard their voices travelling through the wooden door. It sounded like an argument, but not like they were actually fighting.

"He promised," she heard Damon say accusingly, although obviously not actually accusing Bonnie. "Before I left Riverside, he promised."

"Maybe he forgot," Bonnie reasoned.

"They don't forget that, Bonnie!" Elena heard a sound like glass crashing against a wall.

"Mom?" she turned around and saw Jenna standing at the end of the hallway, looking at her with her big eyes. "What's going on?"

Elena dropped her hand, deciding that she didn't want to interrupt this particular conversation after all. With a smile she walked up to her daughter. "Nothing, let's go make dinner, okay?"

"What are we making?" Jenna asked when Elena took her hand and the headed towards the kitchen.

"I really don't know," Elena admitted. "You're Damon's sous-chef, remember? You'll need to help me figure out how to feed everybody."

"All I can do is season meat," Jenna returned, something like desperation in her voice.

"Well, that's the most important part," Elena reassured her, watching a relieved smile spread across her daughter's face. "You season the meat, I'll make the potatoes." Those, Elena could do. Clean, boil, peel. No problem.

"Deal," the girl replied. Elena watched with amazement as Jenna pushed a chair against the kitchenette and climbed up on it to better reach the counter top. She reached up, grabbing several spices from the spice rack attached to the wall, before climbing back down and getting the meat from the refrigerator. Elena watched the little girl open the big packages with her tiny hands, spreading out the comparatively gigantic slabs of meat and seasoning them, holding the oversized salt-shaker with both hands and jerking her arms up and down to let the white grains fall evenly over their food. She held the big pepper-mill almost with her entire left arm while laboriously twisting the head with her right hand, not an easy feat, since she couldn't properly closer her fingers around it. She worked so diligently and meticulously however, a concentrated look on her face, that Elena felt a wave of pride wash through her.

Caroline and Jeremy joined them after a while, helping with the salad and the sauce and the general mood, as Jeremy was telling them about how they should build a sand race track next to the castle. Maybe even a whole kingdom.

When they were setting the table, Bonnie and Damon finally joined them again. Elena and Jenna were just getting the last bowls from the kitchen when Damon walked in, looking a little sheepishly.

"You made dinner," he said with a small smile.

"I seasoned the meat!" Jenna stated proudly, holding the steaming plate up so he could inspect it.

"Best sous-chef ever," Damon praised and stroked a hand over her soft golden hair. Jenna threw him an elated smile and left to put the food on the table.

"I made the potatoes," Elena said quietly, smiling, mimicking her daughter's pride.

"But Mrs. Gilbert, you're not kitchen help," Damon chided playfully.

Elena recognized the little stab but also the good-natured smile it was accompanied with. "But now I could be," she stated. "How about that."

He nodded. Understanding. Pleased. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have stormed off like that," he finally apologized.

"It's fine," Elena replied and then added: "You have taught us well. We can feed ourselves now." He threw her a sad smile. "Are you okay?" she finally asked.

"Yeah," he waved off her question. For a momenrt they were just standing there, not moving, as if waiting for something. Finally he spoke again: "It's my brother. Stefan. He's an alcoholic."

"I'm sorry," Elena said, setting down the bowl of potatoes but not daring to move otherwise.

"It's his booze," he continued by way of explanation. "He's been in and out of rehab so many times, it's ridiculous. Has been to jail almost as often. He's an angry drunk. He would beat his wife, Lexie. At first she would try to sober him up herself. Tied him to a chair once." Elena swallowed. "It would work, the first few times. He would stay sober for a few weeks, months even, then he'd relapse. He put her into the hospital more than once. Afterwards he would repent, swear to never touch another drop. She would go home with him and help him hold his promise. Until this day I don't know if she's the strongest or the dumbest woman I've ever met. She still believes in him. She says he's not the same person when he drinks and she still loves the real Stefan." He shook his head. "I told her to divorce his sorry ass. But she just stands up to me and shakes her head. 'Either you help me help him or you get the fuck out,' she told me. I shouldn't do either. I should have him locked up and get her committed. But he's my brother." Damon looks up and for the first time since she's met him, Elena thinks he looks helpless. "He called me, in tears," he continues. "He said he wants to get his act together. For real this time. Lexie's on a business trip and he asks me to take him to rehab before she comes home because he can't bring himself to look at her and admit that he's relapsed again. I drive to his house and we throw out all the bottles. Then we come here and throw everything away. He shows me all his hiding places and we clean it all out. Then I take him up to Riverside Rehab. He promises me that everything's gone, that we threw it all away. That he's serious this time. And then we find this shit. In the bedroom he shares with his wife."

"Maybe he did forget it," Elena supplies, not caring enough for propriety to hide that she has overheard his discussion with Bonnie.

"He would never. He knows exactly how much alcohol he has and where it is. This is not a rest that he forgot in some corner because he passed out drunk and didn't remember the next day. This is a full bottle, stashed away. He would never forget this. He hasn't let it go. I don't think he ever can. He begged me to help him and then he lied to me."

Elena could see the look of defeat on his face. So this was what he had left the army for. To help his alcoholic brother. And apparently their father closed his eyes to the problem. Elena wished desperately she could help him somehow but she came up blank. She felt that nothing she could say could be a proper response to what she had just leaned.

Suddenly the door burst open. "You guys!" Vicki exclaimed. "We're waiting for you. Are we gonna get this party started or what?"

Before Elena could reply, Damon had turned around to Vicki. "Yeah. Let's go." And with a heavy sigh, Elena followed.

They ate and the mood got increasingly better. Vicki, oblivious to the drama surrounding her was getting happily buzzed and keeping the conversation light. Caroline and Elena had joined in the drinking, but diluted their vodka with orange juice. Bonnie and Damon abstained, stating the fact that they were working as a reason, but Elena supposed that Damon didn't want to touch the alcohol for other reasons as well.

After dinner they settled into the living room and lit a fire. Elena was sitting on the couch with Caroline, chatting, glad that this was something she could do now, while Vicki was dancing to her iPod-playlist with the children. Bonnie was poking the fire, watching the dancers, smiling brightly.

When an especially sappy song came on, beginning with the line "It's the lady's choice", Vicki spun around with a gleeful squeal and extended her hand not holding the vodka towards Damon. "Hear that? Ladies' choice!" She exclaimed and looked at him expectantly.

He grabbed her hand with a smile and spun her around and into his arm swiftly. "What is this even?" he asked, giving her a playfully disgusted look.

"Keith Whitley!" she exclaimed, throwing one arm across his shoulder.

"You say that like it's a good thing," he returned.

"He speaks to my soul," Vicki replied, throwing her head back lightly and giving him her best pouty face.

Elena watched them from the sofa, watched Damon's hand rest on her friend's lower back, watched their hips sway slowly to the music, watched his lips quirk into a smile at something the woman in his arms said, watched said woman throw her head back in laughter and then lean forward slightly to say something low into his ear. Elena only became aware of the fact that she was watching them, probably more like burning holes into the backs of their heads, when his eyes suddenly flickered up and met hers. She instantly turned away, redirecting her attention towards Caroline who was still sitting next to her.

As she turned her head, she was met with curious blue eyes. The blonde was watching her carefully, almost inquisitively, like she had discovered something but wasn't sure what it was exactly. Elena, feeling caught, blushed and was relieved when Jeremy interrupted them before Caroline could elaborate on what exactly it was she thought she had seen on her boss' face.

"It's ladies' choice, Miss Caroline. So you can ask me to dance now," the little boy told his nanny.

A bright smile lit up the face of the bubbly blonde. "Would you dance with me, Jeremy?" she asked, stretching her hand out.

"Alright," he agreed nonchalantly and grabbed her head. The two moved over to the dance floor and twirled around to the music. Elena couldn't help but laugh, all previous thoughts forgotten.

"Mom?" Jenna asked, leaning against the sofa's armrest bashfully. "Do you think Damon would dance with me too?" she asked, fidgeting with her fingers, her eyes downcast.

"I'm sure he would love to," Elena confirmed. "It's ladies' choice. You should ask him." Jenna's eyes lit up and a careful smile crooked her lips. Hesitantly, the little girl approached Damon and Vicki and seeing her elated face as Damon bent down and picked her up, setting her down on his hip, grabbing her hand and jutting their arms out, swinging her around like they were waltzing, Elena felt a smile spread across her own face.

"Your child has stolen my man," Vicki complained only half serious as she dropped down on the sofa next to Elena.

"Your man is a hundred miles away, working," Elena reminded her.

"So is yours," Vicki replied pointedly.

"I know," Elena nodded, taking a sip from her glass. "What a bunch of assholes, am I right?" she said and had to start giggling, in which Vicki whole-heartedly joined her.

"That they are," she laughed and drained her glass. "I can't believe Mason isn't here this weekend."

Elena shrugged and looked down at her hands. "It's fine. His job's important."

"It's not really all that important," Vicki scoffed and Elena couldn't muster up the energy to disagree. "Oh my God!" Vicki suddenly exclaimed. "We should go skinny dipping!"

"Yeah, I'm not going skinny dipping," Elena shook her head vehemently.

"Yes. Yes. Come on." Vicki insisted.

"Hell no," Elena stayed firm.

"Fine. Be the bore that you are," Vicki huffed and stuck her tongue out at her. "I'm going skinny dipping!" she called into the room. "Who's coming with me?" And without waiting for a reaction, Vicki had opened the front door and run out, only leaving her t-shirt behind.

Elena gaped in shock at the opened door only to see her son suddenly speed out of it as well. "Jeremy," she yelled, jumping off the couch. "You are not going skinny dipping with Vicki."

Caroline ran after him quickly, unable to suppress a giggle. "Don't worry, Elena, I'll hold his eyes closed."

Jenna, not wanting to be left out of the fun, flew after them and Elena could hear the gleeful squeals of her kids in the night. Bonnie was about to follow but stopped short in the doorway, throwing an uncertain look into Damon's direction. "I should… follow them. Just to make sure nothing happens," she explained.

"Sure. Safety reasons and all," Damon supplied and rolled his eyes with a smirk.

"Exactly," Bonnie replied with a wink and was gone as well.

"So, Miss Elena," came Damon's voice from behind her. "Have you ever danced with Superman?"

"I have not," she replied, turning to him with a smile.

"Would you like to?" he asked and held his hand out for her to take.

"I would! Wherever might he be?" she asked, looking around the room, as if searching.

"Cute," he returned and grabbed her hand, pulling her towards him and dipping her low.

Elena was caught a little off guard and her breath caught in her throat. "You're good at this," she observed huskily.

"I'm good at a lot of things," he replied, his voice low, his face only inches from hers, before he pulled her back up and swayed her slowly to the music.

"My son has run after his skinny-dipping aunt," Elena started, wanting to dissipate the electricity in the air somewhat. "I think he has been spending too much time with you."

"Why would you think that?" Damon asked, his voice still low. "I'm not out there watching my aunt skinny-dip."

Elena was acutely aware of how close their bodies were to each other. His hand pressed firmly into her lower back, his other one was closed warmly around hers. She felt the strength in his arm and the grace in his legs. She was once more close enough to smell him and it made her a little light-headed. Leonard Cohen's raspy voice was now providing the backdrop to their dancing.

_Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin  
>Dance me through the panic 'til I'm gathered safely in<br>Lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove  
>Dance me to the end of love<em>

He turned them around easily and she felt herself lean in closer, until her cheek was next to his, feeling the heat radiating off their bodies and collecting in the small space between them. She could see the hair in his neck brush against his skin when he lightly turned his head and could feel her fingers itch, wanting to run through it, imagining what the soft, fluffy hairs there would feel like against her fingertips. She felt him turn his head ever so slightly in her direction, could feel his breath gently caress her naked shoulder and a shiver ran through her that she prayed he didn't notice.

"Jeremy!" they suddenly heard from outside, possibly Caroline's voice, followed by Jenna's wail.

"Moooooooom!" she heard her daughter scream and before Elena could even register what was happening, Damon had let go of her and was sprinting towards the door and disappearing through it. Elena ran after him, trying to catalogue what was happening while starting to run across the now cool sand towards the small landing stage that was reaching into the ocean, where she saw figures huddled together.

"Moooooooooom!" she heard Jenna cry again and then saw a body that looked like Bonnie leap into the water. A few feet ahead of her, she saw Damon, running, discarding his shirt and reaching the landing stage, only to pull off his shoes and jump into the ocean as well.

When Elena reached the others, she saw Caroline clutch at Jenna who was staring at the water with a tear-stained face. She could make out Vicki's head bobbing up and down with the waves next to the landing stage, holding onto the wood with one hand and also fixing the endless dark waters before her. "What's going on?" Elena asked with a shaky voice, not wanting to believe what she already knew had happened.

"Mom, Jeremy fell in," Jenna cried and threw herself into her mother's arms. Elena felt a numbness go through her. She clutched Jenna tightly to her body to feel something, anything that might tether her to the world, thinking she might otherwise faint.

"I'm so sorry," Caroline exclaimed, looking up at Elena through equally teary eyes. She was still sitting on the ground, unable to move. "They were playing, the wood was wet…" a sob ended her attempt at an explanation. Bonnie emerged but only for a second to take a deep breath, before disappearing again under black waves.

Too long, Elena thought. It's taking too long. And it's too dark. Only the feel of Jenna's warm tears against her skin kept her from crumbling to the ground.

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><p><em>AN: I know this is crazy but review this maybe? xoxo_


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N: Hey guys, it's update time. This one's weird. I expected it to be about half as long as it turned out to be. And I don't even know why it is so long as all the interesting stuff will be happening in the next chapter. But anyways, here we go. Where were we? Oh right, I was drowning my favorite character._

_P.S.: I've said it before, but I'll say it again, the universe is cruel and thus TVD does not belong to me._

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><p><strong>The eleventh chapter, in which tears are shed<strong>

"_Mom, Jeremy fell in," Jenna cried and threw herself into her mother's arms. Elena felt a numbness go through her. She clutched Jenna tightly to her body to feel something, anything that might tether her to the world, thinking she might otherwise faint. _

"_I'm so sorry," Caroline exclaimed, looking up at Elena through equally teary eyes. She was still sitting on the ground, unable to move. "They were playing, the wood was wet…" a sob ended her attempt at an explanation. Bonnie emerged but only for a second to take a deep breath, before disappearing again under black waves. _

_Too long, Elena thought. It's taking too long. And it's too dark. Only the feel of Jenna's warm tears against her skin kept her from crumbling to the ground. _

Suddenly the waves parted again and she could make out Damon and in his arms Jeremy, unmoving. She put Jenna on the ground carefully and ran towards the end of the landing stage, holding her arms out for Damon to hand her her son. When she got hold of the small body, dripping water onto the wood, feeling unbearably fragile in her embrace, she couldn't fight the tears anymore and they spilled from her eyes. She slumped down and clutched her son's cold body to herself. "Wake up, Jeremy, please wake up," she whispered, pleadingly, feeling hot tears stream down her face and cold drops of brine fall from her son's clothes onto her naked legs. Damon pushed himself out of the water and rushed over to her, kneeling down next to them. She looked at him, helplessly, willing him to do something, to fix everything and then, suddenly, she heard a small cough and then another one. She felt warm water spill onto her arm and then saw the most beautiful thing she thought she had ever seen. Her son's dark eyes fluttered open tiredly and looked around, disoriented.

"Oh my God, Jeremy," she breathed and pressed the small body even closer to herself.

"Mommy," came his weak voice, raspy from swallowing salt water. "What's going on?" he sounded so scared and lost, it broke her heart and new tears began to spill from her eyes.

"Jeremy, are you okay?" she asked, still in shock but also immensely relieved, not knowing what to react to first.

"We should get him inside, get him warm," Damon supplied and, glad that she had a plan of action, Elena stood up quickly and started towards the house, her son clasped to her chest. They put the little boy down on one of the couches in front of the fire and Damon was next to him quickly, holding a towel and drying him off while giving orders to everyone else. Caroline ran up the stairs to get dry pajamas and a blanket, Bonnie ran into her room to change and then prepared hot cups of cocoa for both Jeremy and Jenna. Vicki was getting dry and changed herself. Jenna was sitting on the edge of the sofa, eyeing her brother warily, not daring to get closer and yet not able to move away. Damon rubbed the little boy off, took off his clothes and wrapped him in the towel until Caroline came back down and dressed him in new clothes. Jeremy was looking around silently, still a little disoriented and scared, but alert and responsive. He held his cocoa and observed the frantic movement all around him.

When he was dried off and dressed, Damon checked his reflexes and his pulse, but he seemed fine. "How are you feeling, buddy?" he asked, crouching down in front of the little boy.

"Good," came the response, spoken stronger now and accompanied by a firm nod of the little head.

"Do you feel cold at all?" Damon continued, to which Jeremy only shook his head. "Any pain?" Damon went on. "Did you hit something or do you hurt on the inside maybe?"

"Nope," Jeremy answered lightheartedly, raising his cup to take another sip.

A small smile played on Damon's lips. "Alright. You get some sleep, okay? And if anything feels weird or you start to feel sick or something starts to hurt, you tell us, got it?" Jeremy nodded again, unable to answer since he was still drinking his cocoa. As Damon stood back up, Jenna carefully slipped next to Jeremy and, apparently feeling more confident about his health, threw her arms around him and squeezed him tightly, which made Damon chuckle lightly.

"Thank you," Elena said quietly and before he could respond, she had thrown her arms around him and held him tight. "Thank you for saving him."

Slowly, he closed his arms around her in a comforting embrace. "He's okay now," he said calmly. "He'll be okay." He could feel her nod, her cheek pressed against his shoulder, her arms gripping tightly around his neck.

Elena was incapable of letting go. She felt his skin underneath her fingers, still cold from the ocean, felt drops of water dripping from his hair onto her arms and his wet jeans soaking her skirt as she pressed her body against his. But she couldn't let go. He had saved her son's life. How did you thank someone for something like that?

"I should get changed, too," he finally said, quietly, and she nodded, releasing him and watching him leave the room before sitting down next to her son and holding him tightly.

As Caroline got Jenna ready for bed, Elena sat next to Jeremy on the couch. They had decided to have him sleep downstairs for the night so that he could be warmed by the fire. He had finished his cocoa and was snuggled underneath his blanket now, his eyes starting to droop close. Elena sat next to him, just stroking his hair, staring into the flames.

"Mommy?" he asked, his voice already heavy from sleep.

"Yeah?" She turned towards him.

"Are you okay? You look scared."

Elena smiled. "I was scared. But I'm okay now," she replied.

"Why were you scared?" he asked.

"Because you stupid little boy fell into the ocean," she said chidingly but with so much warmth in her voice that Jeremy didn't feel the least bit scolded.

"But Damon saved me," he returned matter-of-factly.

"Yes he did," she confirmed. "But you have to be more careful. He won't always be there to save you."

At that, Jeremy was pulled a little from his drowsiness and his eyes widened. "Why won't he be there?" he asked, alarmed.

"I don't know. People leave, Jeremy. This is only temporary," Elena tried to explain.

"No," the little boy protested, shaking his head. "You have to make him stay."

"I can't do that," she replied, smiling calmly and running a hand through his hair soothingly.

"Yes you can," Jeremy argued. "Ask him."

"We'll see about that later, Jer. You need to sleep."

"Ask him, mommy," Jeremy insisted.

"Maybe," she half-agreed. "But only if you sleep now." Reassured, as children are by their parents' vague promises, Jeremy closed his eyes and snuggled deeper into his blanked, finding sleep easily.

When Caroline came back downstairs, Elena left her with Jeremy and went to say goodnight to Jenna, who was sitting in her bed, clasping her doll and staring out the window, when Elena walked into the room.

"Will you be okay alone tonight?" Elena asked as she sat down on the bed, next to her daughter. The little girl nodded quietly and shifted so she was lying in her mother's arm.

"Is Jer going to be alright?" she asked in a small voice.

"Yeah, he'll be fine. Don't worry," Elena confirmed and blew a soft kiss on the crown of her daughter's head.

"I'm sorry, mom," she said in a shaky voice. "I should have paid better attention."

"No," Elena returned quickly, soothingly. "It's not your fault Jenna. It was an accident. And he's fine now. Don't feel bad, okay?" She turned her daughter's head and wiped a tear, threatening to fall, from the corner of her eye.

"Because Damon saved him," Jenna said with a sniffle, gazing down at her hands.

"Yes. He really is Superman, isn't he?" she added with a joking tint to her voice.

"You can have him," Jenna said, her voice a little firmer now, a small, hopeful smile on her lips.

"I can have what?" Elena asked, not seeing the connection to their current conversation.

"Damon. You can have him if you want," Jenna explained.

"I thought you were going to marry him?" Elena asked playfully, pulling her daughter closer to her side like they were sharing a funny secret.

"Not if you want to marry him. That would be okay, too," Jenna replied earnestly.

"Oh honey, that's very generous of you," Elena accepted smilingly. "But I can't. I'm already married to daddy."

"Maybe you could marry Damon instead," Jenna said quietly, looking at her hands guiltily.

Elena felt something inside of her constrict. "Why would you say that?" she asked, the playful mood suddenly gone.

"He loves us more than daddy," Jenna said, her eyes downcast.

"Don't say that. That's not true. Daddy loves you very much," Elena assured her little girl.

"Not like Damon. He jumped in the ocean to save Jeremy," Jenna said with conviction.

"That's his job," Elena argued back.

"That's not why he did it, mom. He makes us Mickey Mouse pancakes for breakfast. He danced with me and he helps us with our homework and he plays with us." Elena swallowed, not even aware of half those things. "Daddy never has time for us."

"That's because he's very busy at work, Jenna. He's providing for us. He would like to spend more time with you, too."

"No, he wouldn't," Jenna only said and it sounded more defeated than accusing. Elena wanted to reply something, to reassure her daughter, to make her believe in her father's love, but words didn't come to her. "Good night, mom," she heard her daughter say instead and with that the little girl scooted down and under her blanket, closing her eyes.

"Good night honey," Elena replied, blowing a last kiss on her daughter's temple before turning off the light and getting up to leave.

As she stepped out of the room, Elena almost collided with the nanny who was standing right behind the door, an almost guilty look on her face. "Caroline?" Elena asked, demanding an explanation in not so many words.

"I wanted to see if she needed anything else or if she's okay," Caroline supplied at least somewhat believably.

"Yeah, she's fine. You should go to bed, too," Elena confirmed, her voice friendly now. As she was about to turn around, the blonde stopped her with her voice.

"She's right, you know?"

Elena spun around. "Excuse me?" she asked, daring her new friend to keep going.

"About Damon. He loves those kids. He would die for them," Caroline elaborated, the discomfort apparent in her face.

"That's his job, Caroline," Elena repeated what she had already told her daughter, a defiant tone to her voice.

"Maybe so, but Jenna's right about one thing. His job is not the reason why he did it. And it's not the reason why he's sitting down there now and watching over Jeremy sleep."

"What are you trying to say?" Elena challenged.

"I'm not trying to do anything, Elena," Caroline answered conciliatorily. "It's just good for the kids to feel loved. You shouldn't try to take that away from them just because it comes from a different place than you want it to." And with that she turned around and disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Elena stunned and victim to her own thoughts.

Elena meant to turn in as well, meant to go to her room in which Vicki was undoubtedly already sleeping, knocked out by her sleeping pills, but something changed her mind. She slowly walked back over to the stairs and down to the living room. Caroline had been right. Damon was sitting on the couch opposite the one where her son slept peacefully. He was wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt and nursing a drink in his hand as well as a pensive expression on his face.

"Hey," she said quietly, planted at the bottom of the stairs. He looked up, tired maybe, or weary, or sorrowful.

"Hey," he returned, before lowering his eyes back to the little boy.

"You don't have to sit with him," Elena continued, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I know," he replied, unmoving, rolling the glass around in his hand absentmindedly, his eyes still fixed on the kid before him. Elena stayed by the stairs hesitantly, until he finally lifted with eyes towards her again, waiting for something from her, a comment or a movement, and finally a slight frown creased his forehead. "Would you prefer it if I didn't?" he asked, half surprised, half affronted.

Elena remained by the stairs, watching him, not sure whether that wasn't what she should indeed prefer. "No," was what she ultimately settled on and finally she started moving towards him until she was sitting next to him on the couch. For a while, they were both quietly watching the sleeping boy, until Elena spoke again. "I don't know how to thank you." She wanted to continue, but was unable to find the words to express what she felt she needed to say.

"I'm just glad I got him in time," he returned, his eyes still directed straight ahead.

* * *

><p>Elena was slowly pulled out of the darkness by a light tickling sensation. A warm flurry of fingers fluttered against her cheek and then under her chin. She jerked slightly, her eyes still closed against the sunlight threatening them from behind her lids. She felt her shoulder push against something warm and firm but pliable. The fingers didn't relent however and their torment was now accompanied by the bubbly sound of giggles. Slowly, Elena began to stir and absentmindedly she swept her hand over the area on her face that was under attack. The giggles got louder and finally she jumped awake, tearing her eyes open and sitting upright in one hectic motion. She was met with cheerful brown eyes under disheveled hair.<p>

"Jeremy, what…?" she began, stopping to rub her palm over her neck which was still humming from his assault. The little boy laughed again and clapped his hands together in glee. Slowly, Elena began to become aware of her surroundings. She was sitting on the downstairs couch; her son was standing in front of her, highly amused by the fact that he had roused her from her sleep in such a mischievous way.

"Mommy, you were snoring," he reprimanded her with a wide grin, now grasping her knee with his hands and bouncing delightedly up and down.

"I was not," she gasped, her mock shock turning to actual alarm when she heard a low chuckle beside her. As if stung by a bee, she turned her head, only to see Damon sitting on the couch next to her, in exactly the same spot her head had been resting only seconds ago, his arm lying lazily across the back of the sofa, a cheeky expression on his face, winking at Jeremy conspiratorially. She turned beet red in an instant. She had to have slept in his arm; the heat she had felt against her cheek had to have been emanating from his chest. Before she could collect her thoughts, Jeremy spoke again.

"Can I go play with Jenna?" he asked, unaware of her embarrassment.

"Sure," she replied quietly, tugging a strand of hair behind her ear and stealing herself for the moment he would have run up the stairs and she would be alone with the man she had been sleeping on. "I'm sorry," she finally said, not daring to look away from the floor.

"Don't be," Damon said nonchalantly. "You weren't actually snoring." This got her to lift her eyes and throw him an indignant look, only to be met with a wink and a smile.

"Not what I meant," she spat, getting up, hoping to shake off the awkwardness by clearing away Jeremy's bed.

"Yeah, I figured," she heard him say behind her, more serious now. He took a deep breath before walking up to her, helping her with the covers. "Look, I'm sorry. I fell asleep. I guess you fell asleep, too. Jeremy woke me up two minutes before you." She was still not stilling in her movements. "It's only a big deal if you make it a big deal," he finally reasoned. This got her to halt for a moment.

"It's not a big deal," she stated firmly, pushing her hands into her sides but still avoiding his eyes.

"Good," he agreed, his signature smirk finding its way back onto his face. "Wouldn't want to lose my job because you mistook me for a pillow."

Elena lunged at him with the pillow she was just picking up but couldn't help the smile that crept across her lips. Damon laughed lightly before walking off into the kitchen and when she walked up the stairs, carrying her son's bedding, she heard the familiar sounds of bacon sizzling and coffee brewing.

The day was quiet. Even though Jeremy was doing better and had seemingly fully recovered from his accident, everyone else was still somewhat shaken up. Elena forewent her usual routine of running and self-defense class with Bonnie for more sand-city building on the beach with her children. Jeremy had enlisted everyone's help and was unceremoniously taking advantage of the fact that Jenna was relieved beyond words that he was well, making her bring him soda and carry his shovel all day.

His enjoyment was lessened when Damon returned from his trip to the nearby town not only with new food supplies but also with, in Jeremy's opinion, very unmanly swimmies that everyone now insisted he wear at all times when near the water. His solution was to abandon his post as king of Sand City and find other, supposedly more fun things to do inside the house.

When dinner time rolled around, the house had returned to a sense of normalcy, laughter was coming easily again and the crackling fire had reclaimed its role of supplying coziness, not warming freezing bodies. The last twenty-four hours had taken their toll however and even breathing came from all bedrooms before midnight.

* * *

><p>Damon's rest was, however, cut short. He was awoken by clanking noises coming from inside the house. While he grabbed his gun from his bedside drawer and slid quietly out of bed, he glanced at the clock on his nightstand, telling him that it was just after five in the morning. He could see the first tentative graying shades of twilight on the horizon as he crept through the living room. Another shuffle came from the direction of the kitchen, then a sound like metal scratching against metal. The muscles in Damon's back tensed as he squeezed silently along the wall towards the kitchen door. He remarked the clarity that came with the rush of adrenaline pumping through his veins, could feel his finger tighten around the trigger of the cool and heavy gun he was holding in front of him. He pressed against the outside of the kitchen doorframe, listening for a sense of where the intruder was. The slight movement of a chair near the kitchen island and simultaneous clanking of a drawer near the refrigerator alerted him to the fact that he was faced with at least two assailants. His only advantage was that he knew where they were while they were still oblivious to his presence. Making full use of the element of surprise, he whirled around at record speed, turning the kitchen light on with his left hand while aiming towards the person standing nearest to him with the gun in his right. He was met with two pairs of stunnedly blinking eyes and the sound of an egg dropping from a little girl's hand onto the floor. As fast as he could, Damon pulled the gun behind his back, hoping that the tiny attackers had been too blinded by the sudden light to actually see the firearm pointing at Jeremy's head.<p>

"Guys, what on earth are you doing?" he breathed out, trying to let the weapon disappear under the waistband of his sweatpants and his t-shirt.

"Making breakfast for mom," Jenna whispered, placing a silencing finger over her lips.

"Why?" Damon whispered back just as silently, the adrenaline rush giving way to an acute sense of too little sleep over the past few days.

"It's her birthday," Jeremy explained, holding up a candle he had apparently found in one of the drawers.

"Jesus!" Damon heard a whispered cry from behind him, turning around only to see Bonnie drop her gun as quickly as Damon had only minutes before.

"It's Elena's birthday," Damon enlightened her with a shrug and then, turning back to the kids still staring at him with big eyes he continued: "Do you know who makes the best chocolate birthday cake?" They both shook their heads, captivated. "This one here," he stated with a nod while indicating Bonnie with his thumb over his shoulder.

When the children's faces lit up, Bonnie knew there was no chance she would get to go back to sleep. She therefore capitulated and mumbled something about being right back before roughly pulling the gun out of the back of Damon's pants and tiptoeing back to her room to deposit the deadly weapons.

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><p>Elena was woken by a slight knock on the door. She turned around to see if Vicki was moving but her sister in law kept breathing evenly and didn't stir. She turned her head in the other direction to take a look at her alarm clock, telling her that it was not even seven. There was another knock and Elena rolled her eyes at her kids who would wake her at such an ungodly hour on a Sunday morning. "Come in," she said groggily, sitting up slightly.<p>

The door was pushed open and in walked Jenna, holding a cake up to the height of her chin, her face illuminated by a candle on top of the cake, a determined look on her face, taking her role as cake-bearer very serious. Behind her came Damon, a very sleepy looking Jeremy riding piggyback and clinging to him with his arms slung around his neck. Bonnie followed, carrying a tray with more food and from what Elena could smell there were pancakes and bacon and coffee and it was basically heaven. Caroline peeked in behind the others and joined them in a half circle at the bottom of Elena's bed. Elena had sat up straight as soon as she had realized what was happening, clutching a hand over her mouth and when the lot started to sing Happy Birthday, a single tear rolled down her face.

When they had finished the song, Jeremy signaled to Damon that he wanted to be let down by flailing his legs uncontrollably until they touched ground again. He instantly sprinted to his mother's bed, jumping up on it and with this movement he finally woke up Vicki. While the latter was still battling with her sleeping mask and trying to grasp the situation in general, Jenna had moved next to the bed and held up the cake towards her mother. "Make a wish," she said, big eyes looking into Elena's teary ones.

Elena smiled and stroked her daughter's hair. "What else could I possibly wish for?" she asked, hugging her son tightly against her side.

"If you don't want your wish, I'll make one for you. I want a new football," Jeremy suggested, already moving forward to lean towards the candle.

"No, I know what I want," Elena stopped him, leaning forward herself and blowing out the candle.

"What did you wish for?" Jeremy asked, bouncing up and down on the bed.

"It's a secret. I can't tell or it won't come true," Elena told him with a wink.

Much to Vicki's dismay, this was the much too early beginning of the day. They had breakfast and then went for an early morning swim – everyone but Jeremy who still refused to put on his swimmies. After lunch, Caroline took the kids upstairs for a nap, their cake-baking escapades before sunrise taking their toll on their little bodies. Vicki followed suit and so Elena was left to her own devices. She was sitting on the beach, drawing aimless sketches in the sand, from time to time looking out at the endless waters pensively, getting lost in her thoughts. She didn't know what it was about birthdays that always made you reevaluate your life and choices, but here she was, doing just that.

"You don't look so cheery, birthday-girl," came a playful voice beside her. Elena looked up, shielding her eyes against the sun and smiled at Damon as he sank down in the sand next to her, leaning back on his elbows, looking out onto the sea.

"Oh I'm very cheery," she replied. "This is actually my 'let's get this party started'-face."

"Now that's just depressing," he returned and lay down, his hands crossed behind his head, relishing the sunshine on his face. After a short bout of silence he spoke again, his voice more serious now. "I'm sorry he isn't here," he stated.

"Who?" she asked, causing Damon to blink at her with one open eye asking without words whether she was serious. "What, Mason?" She asked before waving it off dismissively. "He has other things to worry about. Things like my birthday can't be a priority right now."

Damon didn't respond but she could tell from the look on his face that he was biting his tongue. "So," he finally started. "What's the big Lockwood birthday tradition? Grand party? Weekend-trip to some exotic location? Chuck-E-Cheese?"

Elena giggled lightly. "No, none of those titillating choices." He looked up at her expectantly. "It's dumb," she stated and resumed drawing in the sand with one finger.

"I doubt that," he returned, waiting.

Elena tried to wait him out a little longer but finally relented with a small sigh. "Mason takes me out to dinner." She looked at him, waiting for a reply but was only met with a confusedly crinkled forehead. "It's a tradition," she continued. "There's this tiny French restaurant that I love. They make the best coulant au chocolat." She paused again, gathering her thoughts. "We went to France on our honeymoon," she then explained. "It was the best two weeks of my life. So after we got back he would take me to this restaurant for my birthday. It's the one night a year that's about me. I mean, we go out all the time, but always to business dinners or charity events or friends' parties. You know? This was just him and me. No work, no other people, no small talk. And I can eat whatever I want. All the creamy sauces and sugary desserts I can fit in my belly." She laughed lightly. "God, I sound like a spoiled brat, don't I?"

"It's your birthday. You have permission to be spoiled," he replied with a warm smile.

"Well thank you," she returned flippantly. "You're very gracious to allow me to be spoiled."

He rolled his eyes and dropped his head back into the sand. Elena resumed staring out onto the ocean and drawing patterns in the soft sand between her legs. "Fine," he finally said, his eyes still closed, his body still unmoving. "You can stop begging me. I'll take you out for your birthday dinner."

"Excuse me?" Elena questioned indignantly.

"Now, I can't give you fancy French chocolate cake," he continued, ignoring her interjection. "But I just so happen to know the best place for tiramisu. And it's just around the corner." At that he opened his eyes and smiled at her with a small wink.

"We can't go to a restaurant," she said, dismissing the idea.

"I promise, it'll be completely safe," he returned. She threw him a look intended to tell him she thought he was crazy. "Come on. Your one night of the year to indulge. You totally need it." Elena just shook her head and turned her eyes back to the ocean. She felt him sit up and lean over so his mouth was close to her ear. "I'll be a perfect gentleman. I promise," he said, his voice lower than she wanted it to be.

"I don't think it's a good idea," she argued.

"Liar. I've seen your eyes light up at the mention of tiramisu." Elena had to smile and then threw a pondering look towards the house. "Bonnie's here. They'll be fine," he reassured her.

"It's not fair to tempt me with tiramisu," she chided playfully.

"Yes, I feel really horrible about it," he returned in a matching tone while getting up. "Be ready at eight," he added while walking away. "Wear something nice."

* * *

><p><em>AN: So yeah, I couldn't kill Jeremy. Not yet at least. Love that little guy too much. Also, I still need him. Next chapter we'll get a DATE! Or will we? Muahahaha. As always, I'd be delighted to know what you thought. Cheers, my lovelies! xoxo_


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N: I finally got around to uploading this and I gotta say, I'm very excited for y'all to read it. First, though, a little bad news (or good news to some, since you've been asking), I will take a small break from this and go back to working on "Second Chances" for a while. But fret not, I already have fun things planned for when I come back ;) And also, I think I'm taking my leave with a nice one , so I hope you won't be too mad at me. I think this has actually been my favorite chapter to write thus far, so I hope you like reading it just as much. Alright, enough talky talk, here we go. Love you guys! Enjoy :)_

* * *

><p><strong>The twelfth chapter, in which our heroine boldly goes where she has never gone before<strong>

Elena buckled her seatbelt. She felt tense. She knew this wasn't technically a date but somehow she still felt a certain nervousness taking hold of her. Granted, it had been a long time since she had gone on an actual date, since she had experienced those tingles and that fluttering of her hands and granted, this was only dinner with a friend, but for some reason the jumpiness Elena felt now reminded her of the sensations she thought she remembered from back then. She was wearing a silk dress that came down to her knees and was colored in a deep shade of green that she thought complemented her skin tone perfectly. She had been happy with her choice at first, but now she wasn't so sure. When she had stood at the top of the stairs and descended slowly towards Damon who had been waiting for her at the bottom, he had looked at her with an inscrutable expression on his face but she had been sure that she could at least make out surprise as it had flickered across his features.

"Something wrong?" she had asked, self-consciously smoothing out the fabric over her curves.

"No," he had said, almost as if taken aback by the fact that she was talking to him, then he furrowed his brow. "Why do you even have such a dress here, Miss 'we're on the run'."

"You said to dress nicely," she had complained by way of an explanation, to which he had only nodded, giving her a once over. "See, no stockings though," she had added, lifting one of her bare feet and grinning at him almost proudly. And he had laughed and it had given her a sense of accomplishment.

"You look beautiful," he had acknowledged while opening the front door for her and an odd shiver had run down her spine.

When she had walked to the car, the wind had pressed the soft fabric against her skin and ruffled the skirt and let it dance lightly around her legs and she had felt beautiful, too, but now she was sitting in the passenger seat and the strange nervousness seemed to raise her body temperature and she started to wonder if maybe wearing silk hadn't been such a good idea after all.

"Here we go," she heard Damon say as he dropped down in the driver's seat and slammed the door shut. She gave him a hesitant smile, hoping she didn't look quite as terrified as she was.

They drove down the dirt road into the forest in silence. At some point he veered off onto an even smaller road that Elena hadn't even noticed coming here. It looked more like a path for horses than an actual road intended for cars. She felt them climb higher in altitude but only slowly, not enough to tilt the view outside the window but enough to make her feel heavy against the car seat. She watched the trees move past the window and tried to get a sense of direction but failed miserably. After they'd been driving for about twenty minutes, the trees parted again and yielded to a small clearing that ended abruptly when the cliff dropped off towards the ocean.

As soon as the car had stopped, Elena stepped out and walked up to the edge, mesmerized by the view. To the right she saw nothing but woods, but to the left, far away and far below them, she saw a small town bordering on the beach, the houses twinkling like gold in the warm light of the setting sun. The ocean stretched out in front of her, impossibly far, glistening brightly like a moving carpet spun of silver. She could faintly hear the crashing of waves below her, heard the wind rustling the trees around her and a few seagulls crying out above their heads, but other than that it was silent. No human voices, no car traffic, no electrical buzz.

She felt rather than heard Damon standing next to her and without turning around, she breathed: "This is amazing."

"Acceptable alternative for your birthday dinner?" he asked to which she just nodded.

"Where are we?" she asked, taking another step towards the edge, trying to see anything she would recognize, but failing.

"Come," Damon said and waved for her to follow him as he started walking into the woods to their right. The trees were rather far apart and only little underbrush impeded their progress. After about five minutes of walking, they reached the bend of the cliff and now she could look down and see a small beach with a single beach house and children playing in front of the porch.

"It's the cliff behind the house," Elena exclaimed in realization.

"Yep," Damon answered. "I used to come up here with my brother when we were little. You can actually climb from over there." He pointed to a lower, grown over area at the end of the beach. "But I didn't want to ruin your nice dress," he added with a wink.

Elena looked back down to where her kids were just running towards the house, where a blonde woman was standing on the porch, ushering them in. She had to smile. "It was a good idea, bringing us here," she finally said. "They're happy. I'm glad they don't have to feel the weight of the situation we're in. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Damon replied. "Let's get you fed," he finally said in a lighter tone - which elicited a small laugh from the woman standing next to him – before he turned around and walked back towards the clearing where they were parked.

He fetched a blanket and a picnic basket from the trunk and set up near the edge of the cliff. When Elena sat down, she was immediately met with a glass of champagne. "Thank you," she said coyly, taking the bubbly drink from him. As the liquid travelled through her body, she instantly felt her arms and legs go heavier from the alcohol, reminding her that she hadn't eaten enough during the day.

"So," he started, while loading her plate with antipasti. "You practically know my whole life story. What about you?"

"What about me?" she asked, hungrily eyeing the pickled peppers, the thinly cut pepperoni, the mozzarella and tomatoes covered with balsamic vinegar, the plump olives and everything else he was piling onto her plate.

"What's your story?" he asked, filling her glass again. "Girl next door? Russian spy? Illegitimate daughter of some famous Hollywood star?"

She had to smile. "Unfortunately, no," she answered before falling silent again. He didn't urge her on, but his expectant silence was enough to make her finally cave. "It's really not a fun story," she explained, hoping that he would get the hint and change the subject. She wasn't sure however if she had that hope for herself or rather for him. The idea of telling anyone about her past was terrifying. The idea of telling him in particular was both more and less frightening. He probably saw her, like everybody did, as the carefree wife of a rich man and at least that was an image she could live with, one that she had gotten used to.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," he relented and to her own surprise it wasn't only relief that she felt but also a little bit of disappointment. "But whatever you want to tell me, I'd like to hear," he added. "Just give me the short version." And with a grin he let an olive disappear between his lips.

Elena heaved a heavy sigh. "I was born in a small town. My parents died when I was very young. Things didn't go well for me after that." She looked out at the ocean, now a sprawling, dark, vast body of water. The sun was setting behind them and the darkness was falling quickly all around. The small ocean-side town was already illuminated by sparkling lights and the occasional lonely fisher boat blinked among the dark green rolling waves. The sky above her still had a slightly rose tint to it, but the further she looked, the more the rose turned to purple and at the horizon it was already getting difficult to distinguish between the dark blue sky and the grey shade of the water.

"That was a really short version," Damon commented, biting into a piece of ciabatta covered with pecorino cheese.

Elena smiled slightly. "Well you know, there's not much to tell. I was moved around a lot, between distant family members and finally foster care. Not everyone treats you well when there is no one left to care about it." She could feel his eyes on her but didn't dare to look around. She knew he wanted to ask her to elaborate but was glad when he didn't. "Things started looking up when I turned eighteen. I left and I met Mason. He was on a business trip and I was a girl he chatted up in some hick bar. I knew it couldn't be anything serious and when he made promises of coming back for me and taking me away with him I smiled and nodded, but I knew it wasn't true. But he did. He came back. And he took me with him to his big house and his expensive dinners and his fancy parties. And when his mother threatened to disown him, he asked me to marry him. I know people think he's not a good father. But he takes care of us. He promised me that I'd never have to go back to that place and he kept his promise. I haven't met many people in my life who have kept their promises." She didn't dare to look up. She waited for Damon to say something, not sure if she wanted him to or not. When he stayed silent, she continued at last. "Everyone thinks I married him for his money but that's not true. I married him because he gave me hope. Hope is such a strong feeling, especially when you're not used to it. I hadn't felt hope in so long that I mistook it for love, it was that amazing. We were happy in the beginning. I mean I was. And I think he was, too. He smiled a lot back then. I don't know when he stopped. And I can't remember when I lost hope again." She looked at the now black water in front of her. "Doesn't that sound depressing?" she half laughed. "It's not that bad. He's a good man. I'm lucky."

"He's lucky, too." It was the first time Damon had spoken since she had started to recount her tale and his voice startled her.

"I'm not sure that's true," she said quietly, pulling her knees up against her chest.

"I'm sure," he returned and to her surprise his voice was firm and sincere.

"That's very kind of you to say," she said, turning to him.

"What makes you think it's not true?" he asked and despite the darkness she could make out the curious look on his face.

"He should be with a woman who fits into this lifestyle, you know. Someone who likes organizing charity events, someone who likes going to fancy restaurants and who is impressed with rich people and their lives. I'm not like that. Not really. I try really hard, but it feels forced." She looked down at her feet. "Sometimes I feel like I'm unthankful. He has given me a life that I could have never dreamed of and I don't even appreciate it."

"We don't always want what we should want," Damon said and it made her look up, made her look at his eyes that sparkled in the dark and looked at her with such intensity that she thought they saw right through her to her very core.

"No, I guess we don't," she agreed, feeling a little light-headed, before turning back to look at the dark waters again. "Sometimes I think he married me just to piss off his mother," she laughed drily.

"I don't think so," Damon responded. "I think he married you because he saw that you could be more than a trophy wife."

"What do you mean?" she asked, turning towards him.

"I don't know. I've worked for many men like him and I've met all their wives and girlfriends and secret lovers and none of them are like you. You have a fire inside you, an inner strength and resilience. You have an opinion. Men in his position aren't often faced with women who stand up to them."

Elena smiled slightly and then turned back towards the ocean. "That's definitely not why he married me," she said. "He hates it."

"He hates that you have an opinion?" Damon questioned incredulously.

"He doesn't care if I have an opinion. He hates it when I voice it," Elena clarified, frustratedly ripping at a few leaves of grass next to her.

"Then why are you still with him?" she heard him say and she stilled in her movements. "I'm sorry. That was too far," he backpedaled instantly.

Yes, it had been too far, Elena thought, but she didn't mind. If this man asked, she would probably tell him all her secrets. She didn't know how he had managed it, but he had gotten her to trust him completely. He made her feel incredibly safe. And at the same time this realization terrified her. Putting her trust in people had barely ever not backfired. "My life would have been much worse without him," she answered. "I may not be as happy as other people are, but I am happier than I ever thought I would be."

Damon didn't respond and so they were quiet for a long while. Elena simply sat there, feeling the still warm air ruffle her hair and tickle her skin, smelling the mixture of salt water and pine trees and listening to the steady rhythm of waves crushing against the rocks beneath her. "You know what's going to make you even happier?" she finally heard his voice behind her.

"No, what?" she asked and turned around with a smile.

"You were promised tiramisu," he stated and got up to head towards the car.

"Oh, that's right!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands together. "I was promised _the best_ tiramisu, if I remember correctly. You better not let me down."

"Has my cooking ever let you down?" he asked from where he was standing by the trunk.

"There's a first time for everything," she returned, smiling widely.

"We'll see about that," he countered as he returned and handed her a bowl.

Elena took a spoonful of the creamy substance in her mouth and pressed it against her tongue. She had to close her eyes, it was so heavenly. The mascarpone cream was light and fluffy, a hint of vanilla completed the soft taste. The cake was spongy and she could tell that it hadn't simply been soaked in coffee and rum. There was more to it, but she couldn't figure out what it was. The cocoa was dry and somewhat bitter and the perfect counterbalance to the sweet cream. When she opened her eyes again, she looked over at Damon warily.

"Come on, say it," he prompted her with a smug smile. She rolled her eyes to which he only responded with an encouraging nod of the head.

"Fine," she gave in. "This is the most amazing tiramisu I've ever tasted."

A proud grin covered his face. "I'm glad," he said. "Amazing is what I aim for in life." She chuckled and turned away again, slowly and deliberately enjoying her dessert while watching the lights of boats crossing each other's paths on the blackness in front of her.

When she was finished, she put the bowl away and lay down on the blanket looking up at the sky. She had done star-gazing before, had frequently escaped to the roof with her friend Jenna when she was younger, but she had never seen anything quite like this. They were far away from the city and far away from the constant light that came with living in it. No matter where you went in a town and no matter how clear the sky was, you would never see more than a handful of stars. Here, it was a different story. The next conglomeration of houses was miles away and their light didn't reach them up here in the woods on the cliff. When looking up at the sky, Elena was met with an endless tapestry of tiny twinkling lights. She had never considered the vastness of the universe, but she felt compelled to do it now. She could actually see the accumulation of stars that constituted the milky-way, could see the strait of bright lights thicken in some places and fizzle out at the edges and could make out darker spots further away that told of infinity. Those are all suns, she thought, for the first time struck by the wonder and possibility that this realization brought with it and had to gasp at the sense of limitless opportunity.

She felt Damon lie down next to her. "Pretty incredible, huh?" he said, looking up at the cosmos.

She just nodded her head. "Makes you feel pretty small and insignificant, doesn't it?" she mused, for the first time understanding the fascination humanity had with exploring space.

"Why?" he asked, turning around and looking at her. "Think of the odds. Out of all those planets around all those suns, ours is the only one that created life. How powerful is that? Looking out at all that emptiness, understanding how little the chances of us being here are, and still we made it. It's a miracle."

She turned to him and smiled. "Hadn't taken you for a philosopher, Mr. Salvatore," she teased playfully.

"Yeah well, there are a lot of things you don't know about me," he returned.

"Like what?" she asked, propping her head up on her hand, studying him.

"Like my favorite dessert is tiramisu," he told her with a wink.

"Shocker," she retorted mockingly.

"Like…" he began, looking around as if in search of something he could tell her. "When I was little I used to jump off this cliff," he tried a new approach.

"You did not," she exclaimed, incredulous.

"All the time," he insisted.

"I don't believe a word you're saying. That's like thirty feet."

"More like fifty, but yeah," he said nonchalantly.

"You're such a show-off. You didn't jump down this cliff," she stuck to her opinion.

"Oh ye of little faith," he said with a playful shake of his head. "I used to come here all the time with my brother and we would jump. It's the most exhilarating feeling in the world."

She looked at him, scrutinizing him. "There have to be rocks down there," she argued.

"Nope," he rejoined, looking smug. He looked at her with an assessing look. Then he sat up abruptly, a new glint in his eyes. "I'll jump right now if you jump with me," he proposed.

"Yeah right," she laughed it off.

"Come on," he egged her on. "I swear, you will feel like a new person afterwards."

"No way! I'm wearing a nice dress," she argued.

"Take it off," he rejoined matter-of-factly.

"I'm not taking off my dress in the middle of the forest.

Damon rolled his eyes. "I've already seen you in a bikini," he argued.

"It's not the same thing," she reasoned. "And what about the car? Are you just going to leave it here?" she waved in the direction of the vehicle for emphasis.

"I'll get it later," he nodded and stood up, starting to unbutton his shirt.

"What the hell are you doing?" she exclaimed, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"I'm jumping off this cliff," he said with determination in his voice, kicking off his shoes. "And you're coming with me."

She shook her head vehemently, panic starting to grip at her chest. "I would never in my life jump off this cliff, let alone in the middle of the night when I can't even see where I'm jumping."

"There's a first time for everything, remember?" he reminded her with a wink.

"You can be a smart-ass all you want. It's not happening," she maintained with finality.

He halted in his movements, standing before her, half undressed. His jeans were riding low on his hips, his hip bones and abs in stark relief due to the edgy moon light, his eyes darker than usual but with an unearthly twinkle to them. He took her hands in his and held them to his chest. "Look," he said, his voice calm and reassuring. "I know it's scary. I stood on this edge for weeks before I jumped for the first time. And I almost peed my pants." She had to laugh lightly. "Don't laugh," he chided. "I was like… ten. Anyways, I promise you won't get hurt. I'll jump first and I'll make sure nothing happens to you. I swear. And I promise you it'll be the most exciting thing you've ever done."

She looked up at him hesitantly, but he could see a glimmer of curiosity in her eyes that assured him that he had convinced her. A smile spread across his face. "You're going to jump, aren't you?" he asked, nodding his head to reinforce her decision.

She shifted her weight from one leg to the other, debating the pros and cons in her head.

"You are." He confirmed for her. "You'll see. This was the best decision of your life." And with that he let go of her hands and stripped off his jeans, taking a few steps back from the edge. He looked at her again. "Ready?" he asked. Elena shook her head violently. "You better not let me down," he said with a wink and then he sprinted towards the edge and jumped off it. Elena ran towards the edge only to see him disappear in the dark water, leaving behind angrily curling foam and the echo of a splash. She held her breath, staring at the darkness underneath her, feeling her heart beating maniacally in her chest. The seconds that passed felt like hours to her and she didn't know how she was ever supposed to survive that much time under water, until finally she saw him appear again, shooting out from the obscurity surrounding him. She heard a whooping cry of elation from far below her and could see his arms waving at her and she couldn't suppress a smile.

That smile was, however, quickly wiped off her face when she realized that it was now her turn to jump. While she had thus far had an excited feeling in the pit of her stomach, it was now quickly turning into utter panic. She felt her heart-rate increase and her hands get clammy. She couldn't do this. She couldn't jump down fifty feet into the ocean. She took a few hasty steps away from the edge, praying that she wouldn't be sick. "First things first," she told herself. "Take off your dress." With shaky fingers she unzipped the comforting fabric on the side and, taking a deep breath, she let it slip off her shoulders and pool at her feet. The cool night air brushed against her newly naked skin and made her shudder. She closed her eyes, fighting down the panic. She could simply not jump. She could simply put on her dress, get in the car and drive back home. She took another deep breath and opened her eyes again, fixing the looming edge in front of her. "Take the leap," she heard a voice inside her head whisper. "For once in your life, take the leap." And then she felt the tingle in her toes. It wasn't the same fluttery sensation as the fear that was still gripping her heart. It was an excited, restless feeling, and it made her ankles twitch and her fingers clench. And then, before she actually realized it was happening, her feet were running towards the brink and then, in one horrifying moment, the muscles in her legs propelled her into the air and threw her off into nothingness. It happened too fast for her to actually form a coherent thought. Everything around her was rushing air and the sound of her own scream. And then, for a second, it felt like flying, like she didn't weigh anything and the wind would whisk her away. And then she crashed against the water and suddenly she was surrounded with noise from fuming waves colliding all around her and closing over her head, bubbles that gurgled loudly in her ears and rolled over every bit of naked skin on her body. She felt the sudden coldness of the water close around her heart and felt her body sink deeper into the endlessness clutching at her. When finally her descent slowed down, she started kicking her arms and legs and felt her body move upwards again, felt the temperature around her change, believed to feel the water get softer against her cheeks and her fingers. She stretched her arms upwards, waiting for her fingers to reach the air and suddenly her hand was grabbed by another hand, warm and firm around her wrist and it pulled her towards the surface, until her head broke through the water and she could open her nose and mouth and let air fill her lungs again. She felt her chest expand with the new oxygen flowing through it, felt the water drip off her skin and then a wave of exhilaration rushed through her, starting in her chest but quickly spreading through her entire body, making her kick her legs under water and sending electric current through her arms. Before she had even opened her eyes, she threw back her head and let out a scream, needing to release the excess energy somehow.

She heard Damon chuckle next to her and wiped her hair and the remaining water from her face before she opened her eyes to look at him. He was bobbing in the water next to her, looking at her with a mixture of glee and curiosity.

"That was…" she began, trying to find the words but still unable to focus either her thoughts or her feelings long enough to land on anything specific. For a second, she forgot to tread water and sank into darkness again, only to emerge a moment later, sputtering and laughing, wiping water from her eyes again.

She heard Damon laugh next to her and then felt his hand on her arm, pulling her a little closer, steadying her. "You okay?" he asked and she nodded fiercely, holding onto his shoulder with one hand, while wiping her hair behind her ear with the other. She looked around, looked up at the cliff she had just jumped off of, contemplated the amount of feet she had just fallen and the sharp rocks she had luckily missed, then she looked into the direction of the town where she saw a few lights shimmer and reflect on the water and then she looked back at him, still feeling her heart race and her pulse throb in her temples, feeling the adrenalin pump through her body, making her fingers twitch and ache, feeling her skin crawl with fear and elation and then, before she knew she was going to do it, she had pushed herself into his arms and was kissing him. She only understood that it was happening after the fact, when she realized that her arms were clasped around his neck, when she felt his wet hair between her fingers, when the heat from his body pressed against hers, when she tasted the salt on his lips. For a second he was completely immobile and it was that second that it took for her to realize what she was doing and for the humiliation to reach her brain and for the resolve to pull away from him to manifest in her thoughts. But then, just when she felt the blush of embarrassment creep up on her neck, she felt his arm suddenly close around her waist, felt his hand brush over her cheek and dive into her hair only a second later, pulling her into him, and felt his lips return the pressure of hers.

When the realization hit her that she was kissing him and that he was kissing her back, she was hit with a sudden sense of clarity, as if all her senses had suddenly heightened. She was aware of the sloshing of the waves against their skin, felt their bodies rise and fall with the water, felt his hand grab her side firmly, anchoring her, smelled his skin through the salt water covering it, felt his slight stubble scratch her eager lips, only to be smoothed over by soft caresses from his. She had never been kissed like this. Even with Mason, where at least she had been willing, where at least he had been caring, it had felt foreign at first and habitual later. This was different. The longer he kissed her, the more she wanted to be kissed by him. She thought that no amount of kissing this man could ever be enough. His lips were firm but gentle, his tongue tasting and caressing hers. She felt that he desired her, but not the demanding desire she was used to, rather a curious, a reverent, a craving desire and to her surprise she desired him too. Desired his touch, desired to feel him groan softly against her lips, desired to give herself up to him, to let him take her and to take something from him with her in return. She couldn't remember ever wanting to give anything of herself away, not her thoughts, not her freedom, not her body, knew that she only ever did it because she thought she had to in order to protect herself. But in this very moment she was ready to give him anything he might want.

They were clutching at each other desperately, barely able to keep above the water, tangled as they were. "We're going to drown," Damon said, muffled, his lips never leaving hers. She only mumbled a response that might have been a yes or a no, unwilling to separate her lips from his. "You're right," Damon said with a smirk, slightly nodding. "There's worse ways to die." And with that he went back to kissing her fiercely, until they actually disappeared under a bigger wave. Now they had to let go of each other. Did so, reluctantly, and kicked their legs until they reached the surface again.

Elena took in a deep breath before she opened her eyes, instantly searching Damon's. He was only inches from her but instead of kissing her again, like she wanted him to, he nodded his head in the direction of their beach and turned around, swimming towards it in long strokes. She swallowed down her disappointment, her fear of having made a horrible mistake, and followed after him, diving part of the way, praying for the cool water to clear her head. She reached shallow waters only shortly after him. He was waiting near the rocks that separated the bank they were standing on from the beach and the house, small waves lapping at his chest. When she reached him, they just stood in front of each other for a moment, trying to assess the other's intentions. When Elena couldn't take it any longer, she let her eyes fall from his and wander the scenery, lingering on a round rock towering next to her. "We were racing to this, weren't we?" she asked and, taking one step to the side, laid her hand onto the stone, smoothed by years and years of water and sand grinding against it. "I guess I win," she stated and forced herself to look up at him.

He contemplated her for a moment, before nodding. "Fine," he agreed and within seconds he had closed the distance between them and was pressing her against the cool mineral. She was surprised at the wave of relief washing through her, as she threw her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Far too soon, she felt him pull away - only slightly, his forehead resting against hers, but still, pulling away. His hands were pushing against the stone on both sides of her face, their chests were heaving rapidly, he had his eyes closed while she was staring up at him. Carefully she let one of her hands glide slowly over his shoulder, hoping desperately that he would speak.

"Is this like an adrenaline rush thing?" he finally said, his eyes flashing up at hers, boring into her.

Elena felt her spine go cold. She started shaking her head slowly. "I don't think so," she said, looking up at him imploringly, begging him with her eyes to just take her in his arms again so that they might figure out together what the hell this was. She saw hesitation flicker across his face and knew that answer hadn't been enough.

"Like some kind of thank you for saving your kid?" he asked, not even looking at her, and her hands dropped from his shoulders instantly, making him look up at her.

"No!" she spat indignantly, pushing herself off the rock to get away. He wouldn't let her though, grabbed her hand instead and, intertwining their fingers, moved a fraction closer to her again, looking at her beseechingly now.

"What then?" he asked, his impossible eyes on hers. She knew that he demanded an explanation, some reassurance maybe, but by God, she was in desperate need of that herself. She stared up at him annxiously.

"I don't know," she whispered. "The dumbest, most irresponsible, most selfish thing I ever did in my life," she continued, almost gasping when she felt his hand in her hair again, anchoring her. "I didn't even know I wanted this," she tried to explain. "Not consciously." He closed his eyes and nodded. Feeling somewhat calmer, she grabbed the wrist that belonged to the hand cupping her neck and let her thumb stroke the soft skin there carefully. "What about you?" she asked, terrified of the answer but needing to ask the question none the less.

"Oh, I have wanted this," he said instantly, tightening his hold on the back of her head almost imperceptibly. "Badly."

Elena couldn't help the small smile that spread across her face. "You have?" she asked and he must have heard the excitement in her voice, because he looked up at her with a smirk.

"You have no idea," he told her, but it was more of a seductive purr now than the honest, confessing tone he spoke in only seconds ago.

"Oh I don't?" she asked playfully, letting her arm drop over his shoulder again and pulling him slightly closer.

"Mh-mh," he negated, shaking his head while leaning in. This time it was Elena who spoke instead of kissing him.

"Take me to your room," she whispered, looking up at him with hopeful eyes.

He stared at her for a moment before swiftly pushing himself off the rock and taking her hand, pulling her after him as he walked briskly towards the cabin. Elena had to giggle, trying to keep up with him. "Wait," she whispered, catching her breath halfway down the beach.

He turned around, looking at her with a mischievous glint in his eyes and before she knew what was happening, he had scooped her up, carrying her towards the cabin. Elena let out a suppressed shriek before pushing at his chest playfully. "What's always with the carrying?" she demanded. "I'm an emancipated woman! I demand to not be manhandled!"

"Sshhh," he returned chidingly but she could see the smile playing around the corners of his mouth. "You love it."

"Oh, do I?" she asked, challengingly, but not deterring him for a second.

"Yes, you do," he confirmed and at that, Elena relented and let her head sink against his shoulder.

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><p>Damon closed the door to his room behind them and turned around to face her. It was darker in here than it had been outside in the moonlight, but Elena could still make out the shape of his shoulders, the glimmer in his eyes and the movement of his hand as he reached for her. His hand was surprisingly warm against her cooled down skin and a slight moan escaped her at the soft contact. He took a step towards her, only inches separating them now and she could feel the heat emanating from his skin radiating against her. With one hand he opened the clasp of her bra and let the wet cloth drop to the floor, the rush of warm air making her chilled breasts tingle. She let her hands wander slowly from his shoulders down his torso, letting her fingertips make the acquaintance of his soft skin. She was in awe of her own desire. She had always preferred to know as little about the men lying on top of her as possible, knowing that the familiarity of their bodies would make the experience even worse. By the time she had met Mason, she had gotten used to the mere physicality of it and hadn't cared enough to be different with him. He didn't seem to mind. With Damon, it was different. She wanted to know him completely. Every inch, every scar, every spot that made him twitch and every spot that made him moan, wanted to discover his entire body and claim it.<p>

When she reached the waist band of his dripping boxer shorts, he pulled her in for a forceful kiss, drawing her up until she was standing on her toes and she, in turn, grabbed his shoulders tightly and jumped up, straddling his waist, never breaking the kiss. He was holding her up and carried her over to the bed, dropping her carefully onto the soft sheets. He was leaning over her and she let her hands drift down his back, feeling the taught muscles under his skin swell as he shifted his weight to bend down and kiss her neck. When he only ghosted over one specific spot, she had to giggle and threw her head back lightly.

"Ticklish," he remarked with a satisfied grin to which Elena only nodded. He was now hovering over her, looking down at her, drinking her in. Elena became suddenly aware of the stillness. While outside, there had been the rushing of the waves and the whisper of the wind, in here it was completely quiet. She could hear their breathing, could even hear the slight sound her fingers made running across his skin. And despite the excitement she felt curl inside her, she was at peace.

"Elena!" she heard suddenly from somewhere far away and it was a sound so foreign and so far removed from this moment that she couldn't place it at first. "Elena!" she heard again, hearing the front door fall shut right after. By the time she had clasped her hand over her mouth, Damon had already jumped from the bed. "Mason," she whispered.

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><p><em><strong>AN: There you go :) Please let me know what you think. And come talk to me on twitter: cerulianvixen**_

_**You guys are the bestest! xoxo**_


	13. Chapter 13

_A/N: A wild update appears! Yes, surprise! Hahaha. I know I said I wasn't going to update this until I managed to update "Second Chances" but it's just taking me a very long time and since I'm soon going on vacation I felt bad. So here is just a short one to answer a few of your most pressing questions and tide you over since it'll still be a while before I get back to continuing this in any serious fashion. Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed last time! I guess most of you enjoyed our couple's one-on-one time ;) Please let me know what you think of this. _

_P.S.: TVD still doesn't belong to me, I pray for it every night though ;)_

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><p><strong>The thirteenth chapter, in which someone finds out about a certain secret romance<br>**

Elena's head was reeling. What was he doing here? Why did he come here in the middle of the night? And how in God's name was she supposed to explain this to him? And did she even want to?

"Where the hell is everybody?" she heard him shout through the wooden walls, accompanied by his heavy steps, pacing the length of the living room.

"Elena?" She was pulled back into her own body by Damon's soft voice in front of her. She had to have been looking at him with panicked eyes. She could tell from the concern she saw in his. "Get dressed," he said, handing her a white bathrobe. She saw that he had slung a towel around his waist, with the wet hair looking like he just stepped out of the shower.

She jumped off the bed and frantically searched for her bra on the floor, grabbing the wet cloth with shaking hands and wrapping it around her body, the freezing sensation on her skin complementing the ice she felt running through her veins.

"Listen," he said. He looked at her intently, making sure she was with him, listening to what he was telling her, not losing her head, like she was about to. "You're going to climb out the window and have Bonnie let you in through hers, okay?"

"What? I can't…" she was close to tears now, hectically wrapping the bathrobe around her shivering body.

"Yes you can," he reassured her, softly guiding her towards the window. She was shaking her head frantically.

"Mr. Salvatore! Miss Bennett!" she heard her husband call outside and winced, tears threatening to shoot into her eyes.

"What'll she think?" she asked, pleading with her eyes, as Damon was already opening the window.

"It doesn't matter what she thinks. None of that matters, okay? We just need to find out what's going on and then we'll figure the rest out later."

Elena nodded and turned towards the window, only to be stopped by a gentle "Hey," from behind her. She turned around again and was instantly met by his soft lips against hers. She could feel her anxiety drain away from her instantly, inexplicably reassured, as warm confidence started to flow through her body. The kiss only lasted a second, barely long enough to evoke a sense of connection, before Damon let her go and walked towards the door, disappearing through it before Elena had fully regained her bearings.

"Mr. Lockwood," she could hear him say, muffled by the closed door. "What's going on?" Before she could hear what her husband would answer, Elena had climbed out of the window and crept towards the one next-door. As the cool wind whipped into her hair and made her shiver in her wet underwear, Elena realized that she had never felt more horrible in her life. She had cheated on her husband. Even though she hadn't slept with Damon, that was really only a technicality at this point. She was standing outside a window, sneaking through the night in her underwear, the way only slutty college students in movies should ever do, and she did feel humiliated at the thought of knocking on her trainer's window. So humiliated, it made her stomach lurch. All this, however, did not make her regret what had happened. For not even an hour, everything had felt right in the world and if this was to be her punishment for having felt that happy at least once, she would take it, as long as she could cherish the memory forever.

She reached the window of the neighboring room and knocked on it nervously, just as she saw Bonnie approach the door to head out into the hallway as well. The female bodyguard turned around alarmed, her hand already on the weapon in the holster on her hip. Then all color drained from her face, as she realized who it was who was knocking on her window and what this had to signify. She rushed to the window and opened it, helping her shivering boss into the warmed room.

"God, I knew it," the girl said, more resigned than accusing. Elena pulled the robe tighter around her body and looked guiltily to the floor. Bonnie only eyed her for a second before pulling her sweater over her head and then stepping out of her jeans.

"What are you doing?" Elena asked, utterly confused.

Bonnie threw her a huffy look while putting on her own bathrobe and walking into the bathroom, where she turned on the tab and – to Elena's shock – stuck her head under the running water for a second, rinsing her hair and then drying it off quickly with a towel before walking back into the bedroom, where Elena was standing, gaping at her. "Well, I guess we took a midnight swim and are now having a girl's night, aren't we?" she asked, cocking her head to her side, eyeing Elena with a challenging look.

She only nodded and a forgiving and complicit smile crooked up the side of her new friend's mouth. "Well," she said, "let's go see what this uproar is all about." And with that she turned around and headed towards the door, leaving a small trail behind, formed by water dripping from her hair.

As Elena stepped through the door behind Bonnie, her eyes immediately fell on the small group that had gathered in the living room. It was strange, seeing Mason again. It felt like a long time had passed, like her marriage with him was far away. But there he was, his presence dominating the living room, an almost angry expression on his face. Damon stood next to him, his hands resting on his hips, looking exhausted and, Elena thought, regretful. To her surprise, Tyler was with them, having apparently tagged along with Mason and Vicki had descended the stairs, ignoring the strained atmosphere and clinging to her husband's neck happily. Now the four of them were looking expectantly at the emerging pair. "Elena," Mason finally breathed out and rushed towards her, wrapping her in his arms.

"Mason," she returned, though more hesitantly. "What's going on?"

"We're going home," he said with finality, letting go of her.

"What?" Elena spat, almost jumping away from him. Her eyes shot towards Damon for a second who gave her a dark, sorrowful look. "No, we're safe here," she argued, desperately trying to hold on to her life on the beach.

"You're not," Mason replied, sounding almost regretful. He turned around and grabbed a folder from the sideboard, handing it to his wife. "This was slipped under our door this morning." With nervous fingers she opened the file and felt her heart drop. Inside was an array of photos: her and Vicki lying on the beach; her, Caroline and the kids building a sand castle; her running with Bonnie; her training with Damon. Tears shot into her eyes at the blurred image of Damon holding her from behind. The moment looked a lot more intimate through the telephoto lens than the exercise had been. He was teaching her how to escape by breaking his foot at that moment. But looking at the picture now, you might think he was whispering sweet nothings into her ear. And from the reaction her body had to the memory of feeling his skin pressed against hers, he might as well have been.

At the bottom of the thin pile of papers was another printed out note, "You think she is safe?" it read. "Think again."

Elena let her hand with the papers drop to her side and lifted tired eyes up to her husband's. "They were here," she said, not reacting as Bonnie took the folder from her hand to take a look at the images. Vicki leaned over her shoulder to take a look as well and a shrill scream escaped her throat at the first picture.

"Oh my God! They took a picture of _me_!" she exclaimed, waving the photo of her and Elena sunbathing in the air.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Lockwood." It was the first time Elena heard Damon's voice and it sounded almost defeated. "Mrs. Lockwood," he said, almost as an afterthought and the formality made her heart clench.

"Yeah well, it seems like this house really wasn't such a good idea after all, doesn't it?" Mason stated and Elena thought she heard satisfaction in his voice. "We're moving into the Plaza. I already cleared it with the authorities."

"Mr. Lockwood, a hotel is really inadv-" Damon started but was cut off by Mason immediately.

"We tried it your way, Mr. Salvatore, which, quite honestly, was a huge bust. So now we do it my way, alright?" Elena could tell that Damon had to bite his tongue, saw a vein pulsate in his neck, elevated by him clenching his jaw tightly. "Pumpkin, go pack your bags," he then said to her, though not looking in her direction. She felt bile rise up inside her but was too emotionally exhausted and overwhelmed to start an argument. Instead she walked up the stairs without another word.

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><p>Elena dressed in the dark, packed her bags in the dark, roused her children in the dark and forewent breakfast in the dark, having lost her appetite. When the cars were packed and ready to go, the sun was just about to rise on the horizon. Elena threw one last glance behind her at the rose color tinting the dark sky, promising a new day, before turning her back to it and leaving it in the rearview mirror. By the time they had left the forest and were out on the open highway, clouds had gathered and turned all light into an indistinguishable shade of grey. Mason and Elena were driving alone in his car, as per Mason's request. Bonnie was driving ahead with Tyler and Vicki while Caroline and the children were riding with Damon in the car behind them.<p>

"You could have called and warned us," Elena said into the silence.

"I tried calling. But no one answered," Mason returned, his voice hard. Elena didn't reply and only kept staring at the endlessly stretching fields outside her window. "Elena," Mason finally said and she could tell from his tone of voice that he had had to work up his nerve to address her this time and that what was to follow was not going to be pleasant.

"Yes?" she encouraged him nonetheless.

"That picture of you and Mr. Salvatore…" he let the sentence hang in the air.

"Yes?" she asked again, not wanting to have this conversation in which she would have to deny what had happened, while at the same time she wanted desperately to turn around and search his burning blue eyes through the windshield of the car behind them.

Mason took a deep breath, obviously annoyed that she made him voice his concerns. And he was concerned. She could hear the fear and the sorrow in his voice. "What were you doing?" she was surprised at how vulnerable he sounded.

"He was teaching me self-defense," she said. And she was glad she didn't have to lie to him. She knew that she would if she had to, but she preferred not to, even though she felt in her heart that withholding the truth was, in this case, the exact same thing.

"That's not what it looks like," Mason pushed on.

"Well, that's what it was," she returned with an edge to her tone.

They drove in silence once more, Mason staring at the road ahead and Elena at the clouds outside her window, until he turned in her direction again. "I'm sorry," he said, to which she only nodded absentmindedly, never taking her eyes away from her window. "I've just missed you," he added. Elena turned around and looked at him with pain in her eyes.

"I've missed you, too," she said quietly. He leaned over for a kiss but she drew back. "Watch the road!" she exclaimed, earning her a puzzled look from her husband. But he did withdraw. "I'm sorry," she said. "Just… drive carefully, please." Before he could answer her, she had turned away again, leaning her head against the window. She knew her reaction had been harsh. But she also knew Damon was riding in the car behind them and she couldn't bear the thought of him seeing her kiss Mason. She closed her eyes to shut out the world. She was in a horribly messed up situation.

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><p>The day dragged on endlessly. They arrived at the hotel before dinner and Elena sat uselessly on the couch in their suite and watched their luggage being carried in and unpacked by strangers. Mason had Caroline take the kids to their room and entertain them there. Every once in a while Elena caught glimpses of Damon as he and Bonnie walked through the suite with the police, verifying camera angles, alarms and exits. But he never looked at her for more than a second. Elena wanted to unpack but Mason demanded she rest and not preoccupy herself with unnecessary chores. She wanted to check on the children but again he insisted she let Caroline handle them and relax. When she offered to cook, she could hear him heave a heavy sigh. "Let me take you out tonight," he said, circling her from behind with his arms, resting his chin on her shoulder. She felt trapped; felt the need to run away boiling up inside of her as his body heat pressed against her, suffocating her, "Just down to the restaurant. So you can have a real meal again. This hotel has a great chef." When she felt him kiss her neck softly, Elena wanted to scream but instead she just nodded.<p>

She got ready for dinner by herself. She stood in the bathroom, watching herself in the mirror, nothing audible but the slight buzzing of the electric light. No waves, not her children's laughter, not Caroline's humming. She thought that she had not felt so alone since she had been a kid. Mason smiled at her widely as she stepped out of the bathroom in her black satin dress. He guided her down the long hallway that was completely empty. The police had closed off this floor and made sure it was only accessible by elevator with a specific chip card. Most of the rooms were empty, but behind one of the many identical doors was a man she desperately wanted to talk to. Mason nodded to the security guy positioned at the elevator and they stepped into the shiny metal box. The descent seemed endless as Elena stood there, watching one number after the other light up on the display.

"So, pumpkin, don't you feel safer here?" he asked, his hand resting possessively on the small of her back.

"Well, I'd say the President's security's got nothing on you," she replied, which made Mason chuckle.

"Well, with the right amount of money you can buy everything nowadays, even safety," he explained just as the bell announced their arrival at the ground floor. When they stepped out of the elevator, another security detail started following them into the dining room.

"Who are all these people?" Elena asked Mason in a hushed voice. "Where are… Miss Bennett and Mr. Salvatore?"

"I gave them the night off. We will need them for the ball tomorrow. And I thought they deserved a night off after the last few weeks, don't you?"

"Of course," Elena agreed as he led her into the brightly lit hotel restaurant.

"Mr. Lockwood," she heard a deep, sonorous voice next to her and when she turned around, an incredibly tall, friendly looking, white-haired man with a protruding belly beamed down at them.

"Senator," Mason returned and pushed past his wife to shake the man's hand. "Honey, sit down. I'll be right there."

Elena was guided to their table by the Maître d' and served a glass of champagne in the same instant. Absentmindedly, she let her eyes wander through the crowded room filled with undoubtedly either rich or important people, maybe both, and wished nothing more than being able to drink this champagne on a cliff, with salty wind ruffling her hair.

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><p>"Elena," he whispered in her ear. She could feel the mattress dip behind her as he leaned over and rested a hand on her shoulder. "Are you awake?"<p>

She made a noncommittal sound, hoping against hope that it would discourage him enough to go to sleep. After dinner she had gotten ready for bed quickly while Mason still had to make a few business phone calls. But now he was lying next to her and his scent and body shape felt almost foreign to her.

"I've missed you," he whispered again, tugging on her shoulder until she was forced to roll onto her back and look at him.

"I've missed you too," she returned automatically. He bent down to kiss her neck and proceeded down her unmoving body until he reached her breasts. Elena felt heat spring into her eyes. "Mason?" she asked, hoping he couldn't hear the suppressed tears. "Baby I'm really tired, okay? Can we not do this right now?" she let her hand rub his arm soothingly, hoping he would believe her and relent.

"Are you serious?" he asked; the shock obvious in his voice. "I haven't seen you in ages."

"I know," she returned and before she could continue, he had returned to kissing her chest and his hand had started wandering down her side. Elena pressed her eyes closed. She had done this a thousand times. She just had to relax. She tried to shut off her mind, tried to feel his touches as touches only, not a connection, not an exploration of her body, just a soft caress on her skin, disconnected from her, a mere physical sensation. But she couldn't do it. Not even twenty-four hours ago, her body had begged to be touched, her skin had buzzed with the sensation of other skin pressed against it, his every kiss had ignited a fire inside her and it all felt so different from what she felt now. She had been desperate to let him in, while now she was desperate to keep him out. She had given herself away to another man, who had to be only feet away from her now and still unreachable, had given herself to him in her mind at least and now it was unbearable to her to be taken by someone else.

"Mason, please," she said, willing her tears down. "Not tonight." She turned away and sat up, her back turned towards him.

He groaned in frustration and dropped back against his pillow. "What the hell is wrong, Elena?" he asked, rubbing at his temples. "You're my wife."

"I'm sorry," she replied, barely audible. She could hear him scoff behind her. "I need a glass of water," she then said and got up before he could protest or, worse, agree and come along. On her way out of the bedroom, she grabbed her bathrobe and wrapped it tightly around her body as she stepped into the suite's kitchen.

The cool water running down her throat helped to calm her somewhat, but it didn't make her feel ready to go back to bed with her husband. She took a deep breath and stared at the moon outside her window, round and pale in the starless sky above the city, willing it to give her some advice, but none was forthcoming.

Without knowing what she was doing, she was taken out into the hallway by her feet. The bright light made her squint. Down at the far end of the corridor, she could see the security guy by the elevator look in her direction, waiting for her to give him an order. She turned around, looking at the many closed doors, no idea what she was even doing here, but unable to go back inside. She heard sounds coming from the room right across the hall, voices, probably from a television set. She knew this was probably the worst idea of her life, but she had to knock. The door was opened almost immediately and her bodyguard looked at her, first surprised and then concerned.

"Elena, what are you doing here?"

Elena shook her head, desperately fighting back the tears she had been holding in for the past half hour. "I don't know," she pressed out, her throat scratchy.

"Come in," and with that Elena was pulled into the room by her hand and then wrapped in a comforting embrace. When she heard the door fall shut behind her, she couldn't hold the tears back anymore. The two of them sat down on the bed, facing each other. "Were you looking for him?" Elena looked up and met warm but disapproving eyes. She shrugged, helplessly.

"Bonnie, I'm sorry. I know it's wrong." She dropped her eyes to her hands.

"Don't apologize to me…" Bonnie looked at her somewhat confused.

"I know what you must think of me," Elena started, being immediately cut off by her friend.

"No you don't," she said, shaking her head emphatically and taking Elena's hands in hers reassuringly. "I don't care about your marriage," Bonnie started again, making Elena look up in shock. "I'm sorry but I don't care about your husband. I don't care about your morals. I don't care why what happened, happened. It doesn't concern me." Elena swallowed thickly. "What I do care about is Damon. More than almost anything in the world. And he's been hurt. Badly. And I can't let him go through that again and not say anything."

Elena nodded. This had to be about the ominous fiancé he had spoken of before. "Of course," she agreed.

"So that's why I disapprove," Bonnie explained, her voice firm. "I mean… you're not leaving your husband for him, are you?"

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><p><em><strong>AN: Reviews are my crack! Please support my habit :)**_


	14. Chapter 14

_A/N: Surprise update! You guys! I'm actually really still working on my other story "Second Chances" but recently I've been getting quite a few reviews for this one and they have been so kind and touching. And so when I actually reached 200 reviews on this, I figured I had to do something to say thank you. So here I am with a new chapter, thanking you all soooooo much! You're the bestest :)_

_Alright here we go. Two asides: 1. I don't own TVD. What else is new. 2. It's almost midnight so if you find any spelling mistakes or weird uses of preositions, that would be why ;) enjoy!_

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><p><strong>The fourteenth chapter, in which decisions are made<strong>

Elena was sitting at the breakfast table, her mind still clouded from too little sleep and too many conflicting thoughts. The day outside was grey and only a wan light seeped into the suite through the white curtains. The wall lamp hanging near the table did nothing to brighten the atmosphere. Almost inaudible raindrops were blown against the windows by a slight breeze. At least her children were there. Barely seeing them the day before had been surprisingly difficult and spending this time with them before her husband would surely insist the nanny take them to their room and practice reading with them, again leaving Elena to her own devices and infinite boredom, was a great relief. She planned on crashing the kids' study session as soon as Mason had gone to work. Spending another day by herself was simply not an option.

"Mommy, can we have Mickey Mouse pancakes instead?" Jeremy asked her, pulling her from her thoughts.

"Mickey Mouse pancakes?" Mason questioned before Elena had a chance to answer. "What are those?" He was apparently intrigued enough to drop the newspaper he'd been reading so far.

"They're big pancakes with little pancakes on their side so they look like Mickey Mouse ears," Jenna explained dutifully. "Damon makes them." Jeremy only nodded enthusiastically.

"Elena, I thought we agreed we would address the staff by their last names," Mason stated, disappointment in his voice.

Elena was spared having to answer by her son's insistence. "Can we dad? Please?"

Mason heaved an annoyed sigh. "These are round Spongebob Squarepants pancakes, okay? Now eat." He lifted the newspaper back up, effectively shutting out his family.

"Spongebob Squarepants can't be round, daddy!" Jeremy giggled. "I want Mickey Mouse pancakes!"

"Well you can't have any," Mason returned without looking up from his reading.

"Daddy!" Jeremy insisted, a wide grin still on his face, pulling on his father's sleeve in a game of who could be more persistent. "Come on, Damon always makes us Mickey Mouse pancakes!"

"For God's sake, Jeremy," Mason burst out, dropping his newspaper onto the table with such force that the plates clattered and his glass of water tumbled over and spilled across the table cloth. A maid immediately rushed over to clear away the food that had been soaked and bring Mason a new glass of water. "There are no Mickey Mouse pancakes today. Now be quiet." Jeremy's playful mood vanished instantly. He looked up at his father with big eyes, unable to comprehend what had gone wrong. "Seriously, Elena?" Mason asked, turning to his wife with a chiding look. "You guys are gone for a few days and you lose all control over them? I thought we agreed on teaching them respect for their parents."

"This is tough for them, Mason. We just tried to make the situation as pleasant as possible. He's not being disrespectful. He just doesn't understand why he suddenly can't have his pancakes anymore."

"You're too easy on them, Elena. They need to learn discipline."

"He was just asking about pancakes," she argued exasperatedly. "Don't turn this into something it isn't."

He stared at her with ice cold eyes. She could practically feel his disapproval radiate from them. "Kids, go to your room," he stated, his eyes never leaving his wife. Jenna and Jeremy quietly got up and hurriedly left the table. From the corner of her eye, Elena could see her daughter lingering in the doorway uncertainly before disappearing. She returned her husband's glare unflinchingly.

"I don't know what's going on," he started coldly, "but it's unacceptable. I won't tolerate you undermining my authority in front of the kids. When we had them, we agreed to always put up a united front and only because you seem to have suddenly found an interest in our children, I will not allow you to position yourself with them against me. I provide for you all, I feed you and clothe you and protect you and I will not be ridiculed. Are we clear?"

Elena swallowed, trying hard to keep her nerves under control. "Mason, that's not…"

"Are we clear?" he interrupted her forcefully.

"Yes," she replied, her voice weaker than she wanted it to be.

"You've been distant ever since we got back," he continued, his voice somewhat softening. "I know you're under a lot of emotional stress, but so am I. This is a difficult time but we can only make it through if we stick together, alright?"

Elena nodded, not daring to speak for fear of losing her tight grip on the tears she felt slowly gather behind her eyes, squeezing her throat where she suppressed them with all her might.

"I have to go to work. I suggest you get some rest, you look a little pale." With that he dropped the paper to his son's chair and got up from his seat, walking over to the sideboard where his briefcase was waiting. Elena sat quietly at the table, not daring to move until he had left.

"Be ready for the ball by eight," he stated business-like while packing the last documents. When he was done, he walked over to her and pressed a kiss against the crown of her head. "And be in a better mood," he added, his lips still buried in her hair. "It's for charity. The press will be there."

When the door fell shut behind her husband, Elena could no longer hold back her tears. She was thankful that her children weren't there to see her. She was utterly confused, unsure of whether she cried from anger or sadness, whether his patronizing tone was the reason for her rage or rather her disappointment in her own incapability of standing up to him.

After the talk she had had with Bonnie the night before, her emotions had already been a complete mess and this morning's breakfast had done nothing to settle them. It had however helped her to come up with an answer to the question her bodyguard and new friend had asked her. She now knew exactly what she had to do.

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><p>Elena stood in front of the mirror and tried to decide on a dress. She wished she could be eleven again and fit into the black long-sleeved dress she had worn to her parents' funeral. It had been like a protective armor: Look at that poor little girl in the black dress – she just lost both her parents. No one had dared talk to her all day. She wished she could do this now, wrap herself in a cloak that people didn't dare penetrate. She didn't feel up to the challenge of standing in the ballroom downstairs, shaking hands with strangers and talking to them about the important work this charity did. She couldn't even remember what it was. She hoped it had at least something to do with children – it made caring easier. She normally cared about all the charities she rallied for. She hated not caring about this one.<p>

As she looked at herself in the mirror with disgust, she heard a soft knock on the door and Mason entered the bathroom, already looking dapper in a black suit. Why does he get to wear black? She wondered in annoyancy.

"Are you about ready?" he asked, crossing over to her and letting his hand stroke her bathrobe-covered back lightly while looking at her face in the mirror. Her hair and make-up were already done. Her eyes sparkled underneath dark lashes and her lips glowed in a warm red, hiding the fact that she felt lifeless and anemic.

"Yes, I'll just be a minute. I can't pick a dress," she explained with a strained smile.

"We'll be waiting outside," Mason informed her in a soft tone before pressing a kiss to her temple. "Wear something pretty for me," he added with a smile before exiting the room.

She was sure it was meant to be encouraging but it made her feel almost ill. She wished she could simply claim a migraine and lie in bed with the blanket pulled over her head all night. She didn't want to look pretty for Mason, the thought alone made something in her gut curl. She didn't want to draw his appreciative gaze upon her figure, didn't want to encourage his hands to linger on a slab of exposed skin. She pulled the robe tighter around her body.

Suddenly, she heard a woman's laugh coming from the other room, muffled by the thick walls and door but still recognizable as Bonnie's. 'We', as Mason had referred to the group waiting for her outside, included Bonnie and – as she was sure now – Damon. Her heart-rate suddenly picked up. Damon was here, standing only a few feet from her. She would see him, talk to him and spend the evening with him. He would be by her side all night because he had to protect her.

Suddenly fidgety, she left the bathroom quickly and crossed the en-suite bedroom to get to her dressing room. The maids had brought all her dresses with them and hung them here, one dazzling gown next to another, just waiting for her to pick one and slip into it. She let her hands trawl across the plastic bags holding the valuable garments. She had hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of dresses at her disposal but suddenly they all seemed insufficient. She wished she had a dress she had never worn before, one she could wear just for him. All of a sudden she did want to look nice, but not for her husband, for her bodyguard. She felt shame rise up in her chest but she forbade it to gain any hold amongst her emotions. She didn't have much left that she wanted or hoped for. But she did want to look beautiful for the man she loved – and she wouldn't feel bad about it.

It was then she figured out exactly which dress she wanted to wear. She had bought it for the opening gala of the Mystic Falls Museum of Modern Art and never got to wear it since that had been the night she had been attacked and they left for the beach house the very next morning. She finally found the Zuhair Murad garment bag and unwrapped the dress. She had been excited to wear it for weeks before the gala and then, on the beach, she had simply forgotten about it – had forgotten about all her expensive dresses and fancy jewelry – but tonight she would wear it.

She smoother her hand over the silken purple cloth and along the beaded details before stepping into it and fastening the gown tightly around her body. She instantly felt better. There was something about dressing formally that made her feel protected. It was like wearing a costume. The make-up, the high heels, the sparkling diamonds, the excessively overprized dresses – it removed her image from her person and made it easier to endure the staring and the superficiality. It made it easier for her to play her role. She inspected herself one last time in the mirror. She knew exactly why she had bought this dress. The bodice was fashioned of intricate lace, intertwined with subtle beading that sparked up for a second when the light hit it just right. Broad bands of silk were slung around it and draped across her bosom and midriff, hiding what needed to be hidden but letting the idea of skin peek through the underlying lace. It wrapped around her waist tightly, making her seem slimmer than she thought she was and was fastened in a bow low on her hip. From there the skirt was slit open, letting her long leg protrude alluringly while the shiny cloth plunged smoothly towards the ground where it pooled around her feet. With one last look over the shoulder into the mirror she stepped into her heels, grabbed her purse and left the room.

When she had crossed the bedroom and stood in front of the door leading towards the hallway at the end of which her husband and bodyguards were waiting in the living room, she had to take another moment to breathe in deeply and slow down her heart. It was beating maniacally in her ribcage, pumping the blood so fast she felt dizzy. Slowly she turned the doorknob and made her way down the dark corridor towards the warm light waiting for her at its end, apprehension and thrill warring within her.

Her husband was the first one to come into view. He stood near the opening of the hallway and poured himself a glass of something alcoholic as she approached. He heard her footsteps on the thick carpet and lifted his head to look upon her in appreciation, a smile creeping onto his face.

"There she is," he announced, stretching out his arm to welcome her into his embrace and the living room.

The next person she saw was Bonnie. She looked stunning in a one-shoulder floor-length dress in a dark gold hue. When Elena entered the room, she instantly got up from the couch she had been sitting on and let her eyes dart to the opposite side of the room. Elena followed them almost unconsciously and finally her own landed on the man she had been longing to see. Damon was standing by the window, one hand leaning on the sill, his other resting in the pocket of his pants. He was wearing a black suit, just as Mason was, but somehow Elena thought he looked infinitely better in it. Mason's blonde curl and boyishly slanted eyes always made it seem like he was better suited for jeans and a t-shirt and trying too hard to pull off a suit. Damon with his black hair and intense power behind his eyes looked like he was born to wear a suit.

When her eyes met his, she felt the weight of her yearning sink upon her shoulders. He had to have been looking out the window before she arrived but now his attention was entirely focused on her. Within seconds she was able to tell the difference between the way her husband looked upon her and the way Damon did in this moment. Her husband appreciated her beauty in the same way he appreciated the smooth curves of his Porsche. Objectively. It made him proud to be seen with her. Damon's eyes held something else entirely. The awe and desire made her skin prickle and at the same time she saw a sadness in them that pulled at her soaring heart, threatening to plunge it into despair.

"Let's go," she heard her husband say next to her, resting his hand on her lower back heavily, making her feel trapped with the slightest of touches. She tore her eyes away from Damon's and followed her husband's command.

The small group made its way down the hallway and into the elevator. Elena kept her features schooled and her eyes away from Damon as a way of self-preservation. Her racing pulse and flat breath made her fear that she wouldn't be able to look at him without crumbling. All the while she was sure she felt his gaze on her back, sliding along her neck and over her bare shoulders. She wanted desperately to turn around and look at him.

When they reached the ground floor, they were greeted by a throng of people chatting in the foyer and slowly parading through the open door towards the ball room. Bonnie and Damon were instantly on high alert. The shorter girl hooked her arm around her companion's casually, but their eyes darted everywhere, registering every movement, scanning every guest. They sauntered into the brightly lit hall and lingered for a second atop the wide staircase, taking in the brightly lit and illustriously filled dance floor. Elena could make out some of their friends and some of her husband's business partners, standing in clusters around the room, laughing and sipping champagne. When Mason spotted Tyler and Vicki by the large doors leading onto the terrace, he started moving again, pulling Elena with him.

"Smile, there are cameras everywhere," Mason whispered into Elena's ear and led by good example, putting on a wide grin himself. Elena dutifully curved her lips, hoping it was convincing enough to fool her friends.

Luckily, she didn't have much to worry about with Vicki who paid little attention to her mood and went straight to gushing about being back in 'civilization'. She had missed parties and her closet immensely, she lamented, and didn't Elena feel the same. Knowing that her sister in law didn't want conversation but only agreement, she nodded her head with an encouraging smile and downed her glass of champagne, hoping the alcohol might help make tonight a little more bearable.

An hour passed during which Elena assisted at a discussion amongst her friends Aimee and Sarah about what charity to promote next. She was getting exhausted from the effort it took for her to not look at Damon every two seconds. He was standing a few feet away, looking deep in conversation with Bonnie but Elena knew that the two of them were surveying their surroundings for anything that might look suspicious. Elena was pulled from the conversation with her friends by her husband's hand on her shoulder.

"Excuse me ladies," he said with his most winning smile, reducing both women to putty in his hands while pulling his wife away from the group. "I have some business to attend to," he told her when they had moved out of earshot and were now standing by the windows overlooking the hotel park.

"Now?" Elena asked, more out of surprise than because she wished he didn't have to go.

"Yes, I'm sorry pumpkin but it's kind of urgent." Elena only nodded in acceptance. "I knew you'd understand," he said with a relieved smile while pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Mr. Salvatore," he suddenly called, turning around abruptly.

Elena had fought hard to keep her eyes away from the man she had felt pulled towards all evening, but now that he walked over to them and came to stand beside her, so close that the scent of his aftershave reached her, she was rendered incapable of averting her gaze.

"Mr. Salvatore, I need to take care of some business," he explained vaguely. "Please make sure my wife stays at least another hour and then escort her back to our suite."

"Of course," Damon agreed but Mason had already turned around and walked away.

"Would you like to dance?" Damon then asked, now turning his full attention onto her, bending over slightly in a courteous bow.

"I would love to," she agreed and felt her heart skip when he took her hand lightly into his and guided her the few steps onto the dance floor. Suddenly his arm wrapped around her, his hand resting on her back, pulling her lightly against his body. Her left arm rested on his right one, which in return held hers up firmly, her right hand closed finally, firmly around his left one and she took another step towards him, close enough now to feel his breath against her skin. With the next beat of music he gently pushed her forward and they fell into easy circles as they moved with the other couples across the floor. Right away, Elena could feel all her anxiety fall away from her – being in his arms made her feel safe in an instant.

"How are you?" he asked, his voice low and smooth.

"I missed you," she confessed, looking at the blur of colors over his shoulder, unable to focus her eyes on anything specific.

"I missed you, too," he said, his voice soft. She could feel his thumb stroke across the knuckles of her hand and drew in a breath. "How are the kids?" he continued his questioning.

"They're good," she replied. "They miss you, too. Your pancakes especially." She could feel him chuckle lightly and couldn't help but smile herself.

Suddenly she felt a shift in his posture, his back was more rigid and his head turned to keep his sight on a point in the distance.

"What is it?" she asked, pulling back slightly to look up at him.

"Who is that? With your husband?" Damon asked, indicating the far end of the ball room with an almost imperceptible nod of the head.

Elena scanned the room and saw Mason at a service entrance across the dance floor, his hand on the doorknob, his eyes darting across the crowd as if to make sure no one was watching him, before pushing through the door and disappearing in the corridor behind it. He was followed by another man in an expensive grey suit. Elena thought she remembered the face. He had a certain noble slant to the jaw and a calm yet determined quality to the eyes that had ingrained him into her memory. It took her a minute to be able to place him, though.

"Elijah," she finally answered, after the door had already fallen shut behind the two of them. "Elijah Mikaelson."

"As in Nick and Kol Mikaelson?" Damon questioned, his eyes still lingering on the door.

"Yes. You know them?" Elena asked somewhat surprised.

"It is my job to know your husband's business associates," he replied distractedly. "I didn't know there was another brother."

"As far as I know, he's not involved in the business anymore," Elena explained. "From what I've heard he left the company after his father's death. Apparently Nick and Kol have questionable moral standpoints when it comes to obeying the full extent of the law. Elijah demanded they stay honest and do business like their father had but Nick and Kol somehow managed to kick him off the board. He works as a lobbyist for several environmentalist groups now. Apparently he can be very convincing."

"What is your husband doing with him then?" Damon asked, his brow furrowed.

"I don't know," Elena admitted, watching Damon carefully. He seemed worried or at the very least curious. She wondered what he was going to do about it.

"Maybe they know each other privately," he mused.

"We met him at a fundraiser for the Governor the Mikaelsons hosted last Christmas but I've never heard Mason speak of him since then."

"Hm," Damon only replied, still deep in thought. At the next corner however, he pulled his eyes from the closed door and directed them back at Elena. Immediately she saw his gaze soften, an unreadable expression ghosting across his face.

"What?" she asked, cocking her head inquisitively, a small smile curving her lips.

"Nothing," he replied easily. "You look beautiful."

Elena dropped her eyes to the floor, the compliment lifting her up and pulling her down at the same time. "Damon," she said quietly but was unable to finish her sentence. They had made the round of the hall and returned to the place they had started dancing. Elena's eyes darted over to where Bonnie was standing with Tyler and Vicki who were immersed in conversation with the editor in chief of the local newspaper and his bored looking wife. "Come with me," she said, pulling from his arms and heading towards the open doors that led out onto the terrace.

The fresh air that hit her face instantly cooled down her overheated skin. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves and made sure that Damon was close behind her before rushing down the elaborate steps towards the vast garden stretching out behind the hotel. The music faded, as did the voices and the bright light. Elena welcomed the quiet and darkness enveloping her, wanted to get swallowed up in them. She needed to talk to Damon about the realization she'd had that morning during breakfast but she couldn't do it with all of Mystic Falls' high society in earshot. She walked quickly and quietly along the pond until she reached a weeping willow growing at the far end of the small body of water. Without looking back, she pushed aside the low hanging branches and disappeared behind the curtain of leaves, only stopping when she had reached the sturdy stem of the old tree, turning around just in time to see Damon push through the thick foliage, a confused look on his face.

"Elena, you can't just run off like that. This is extremely…"

"I can't leave my husband," she interrupted him, her hands clenched nervously at her sides, her eyes wide and watching him.

Damon stayed quiet for a second, caught completely off guard. "I never asked you to," he finally said, taking a hesitant step towards her so they were close enough to see each other's face even in the relative darkness that surrounded them.

"I know," she answered, her throat aching. "But you've made me want to."

She could see the pain on his face. He took another step so he was standing right in front of her and softly stroked her cheek with his thumb. She closed her eyes, relishing the feeling of his skin on hers, before she raised her own hand to seize his.

"I want to leave him because I've realized that I'm not happy. And because I know that I can't make him happy. But I can't leave him, Damon. He would never forgive me and he would take Jenna and Jeremy. Not because he wants them but because he wouldn't want me to get them. And there's nothing I could do. I don't have a job or even any skills; I don't even have a family that could help me. I can't lose them, Damon. I can't leave them with him." She felt a tear trickle down her cheek and cursed herself for not being able to hold it together. She couldn't go back into the ball with smeared make-up. Everyone would talk.

"Sshh," he soothed and wiped the tear away carefully. Slowly, he pulled her into an embrace, wrapping her into his arms and his scent. Elena breathed in deeply, dispelling her anxiety and filling her lungs with the intoxicating mixture of him and the hyacinths blooming nearby.

"I can't be with you, Damon," she said quietly, her face pressed against his dress shirt, feeling the heat from his skin through the thin cloth. "I'll want to leave him but I can never do it."

"I know," he said softly into her hair, holding her still close against his chest. "I never wanted to come between you and your husband, I would never want to cause you pain. I want you to be happy, Elena. And I understand that it can't be with me. I just hope that he will be able to make you happy again – to give you hope again."

Elena wanted to dissolve into a puddle of tears but knew she couldn't. Another kind of fear suddenly grasped at her.

"Will you leave now?" she asked, unsure of what she would do if he weren't there anymore.

"Never," he replied, his voice strong and determined. "As long as you need me, I'll stay."

She wanted to smile from relief and cry from the pain at having to let him go. "Take me upstairs," she pleaded, pulling away from him, feeling the loss of his body against hers acutely, not only because of the cold night air rushing against her heated skin but also because she was aware of the finality of the moment and she felt as if she was leaving behind not only the warmth of his arms but also a piece of her heart.

They walked back across the lawn without speaking another word. Instead of having to face the packed ballroom however, Elena was guided by Damon towards a staff entrance that opened onto a corridor leading from the gardens all the way to the foyer, passing the kitchen on the way. Damon made a quick call to Bonnie to tell her that he was taking Elena upstairs to her room, then they reached the public part of the hotel again. Elena was glad that the reception area of the hotel had somewhat emptied by now. She only nodded to the security guy standing by their private elevator and stepped into the metal box as soon as its doors opened, her arms wrapped protectively around her body.

She felt Damon step into the lift behind her and heard him lean against the wall. She raised her eyes to watch the digital numbers on the display change slowly as they passed floor after floor, rising endlessly. She wanted only to shut the door behind her, step into her shower and finally allow herself to cry without fear of anyone noticing.

In the mirror that covered the walls of the small cubicle she could see Damon stand by the wall behind her, his hands braced on the handrail that lined the walls, his eyes turned towards the floor as if he was inspecting his shoes. She felt anguish rise up inside her and close fast around her chest. She had hurt him, too. It wasn't only her own heart that she had put on the line, she had accepted that he did the same. She had been the one to kiss him, she had been the one to ask him to take her to his room. And yet he didn't hold it against her but simply accepted her excuse and still stayed to protect her. She took a deep breath, the sound of which must have alerted Damon because his eyes shot up instantly and landed on hers in the mirror. For a second she could only stare at him and watch his expression slowly change from startled to observing to questioning. She dropped her gaze to the floor and took a deep breath. She needed to get out of this elevator instantly. Then again, she really didn't want to. She lifted her eyes back up towards the mirror where they were immediately met by Damon's bright blue ones. She felt her heart quicken and felt her hands and feet become restless. Her pulse buzzed in her temples. She spun around suddenly, facing him now, looking directly into his blazing eyes that were filled with desire and uncertainty, that beckoned her and told her to stay away at the same time. She could see his knuckles turn white from where he gripped onto the handrail tightly. She took one hesitant step towards him but was interrupted by his voice before she could close the distance completely.

"Don't do it," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Don't do it if you don't want it."

She hesitated. He was right, she couldn't do this now and take it back later. She had given him her whole sermon about not being able to be with him and he had accepted it and it was unfair of her to string him along now if she wasn't able to follow through. But who was she kidding? Staying away from him wasn't an option. The pull was too strong. She had felt it all night and now she couldn't even last two minutes in the elevator with him. She had told him everything she had because she really believed it to be true and because she had hoped that her heart might be able to follow her head if he was on her side, helping her to stay strong, but not even ten minutes had passed since that moment and already they had become the most excruciating ten minutes of her life. This definitely was the worst idea she had ever had but she also knew that she didn't really have a choice. Not being with Damon now only meant lying to herself a little longer. It was certain that she would finally succumb, he wouldn't even have to try – she had fallen for him all on her own and she would eventually capitulate to this all on her own as well. It was an inevitability and at least with him by her side she felt stronger instead of weaker during these difficult times.

Determined now, she crossed the remaining distance between them and rested her hands on his chest. She could feel his ribcage rise against her palms and took a calming breath while closing her fingers around the lapels of his suit jacket and leaning forward. She could see his eyes drop towards her lips and felt the hesitation in the rigidness of his torso and the ticking of his clenched jaw. She prayed to god that she wasn't making the biggest mistake of her life but right now not doing it felt like the worst possible decision.

When their lips met, she was certain that she had made the right choice. It felt like coming home. The tension was suddenly gone from his body and when he finally closed an arm around her, pulling her closer and she could in return wrap her arms around his neck, tangling one hand in his hair and holding herself fast against him with the other, she felt like she had on the beach, like she could still hope for happiness.

What had started as a tentative kiss soon spiraled into something else entirely. Elena pulled herself against Damon's body, as if trying to pull him in as much as she had pushed him away before. Her arms clung to him desperately, fearing that he might disappear if they loosened even a fraction. Damon was crushing her body to his with one arm while tracing the naked skin of her bare shoulders with the other. Their lips devoured each other, as if this were the first and last kiss they could ever share.

Suddenly the elevator moved much too fast. Elena was sure they would arrive on their floor in seconds. Why did she have to be such a ridiculous idiot and waste precious moments on her doubts?

When they felt the capsule slow down and come to a careful stop, the feeling of Elena pulling away from him and her hungry eyes and kiss-swollen lips had Damon ready to push the emergency button to give them even a few more minutes but the cheerful chime of the elevator bell announced to him that he was too late.

* * *

><p>Brian was standing next to the little stool by the elevator. It was late and he was tired and he would have liked to sit down but Joel had called from downstairs, announcing to him that Mrs. Lockwood would be coming up and therefore he had to stand. Boss's orders. When the doors opened, the woman he was here to protect stepped into the hallway, her head bowed and her arms wrapped closely around her torso. He hadn't seen much of her, but she was a beautiful young woman and from what he heard a kind one at that. Protecting her made him feel useful and sad at the same time, sad that she needed to be protected, that there was someone out there who wanted to hurt this delicate flower. Her personal bodyguard, Damon Salvatore stepped out right behind her. Brian hadn't had much direct contact with him either, but he admired the dark-haired man immensely. They were of the same age and yet the other had accomplished so much more. His mere presence made Brian feel inadequate. Sure, he could throw himself in front of a bullet for his charge – and he would – but he had to admit that he couldn't anticipate a criminal's actions, that he was too slow-witted to register an impending threat and that he wasn't able to fit in with the high society. Eager to please, he plastered a bright smile on his face.<p>

"Good evening, Mrs. Lockwood," he greeted friendly. She looked up and smiled weakly at him in return. He was somewhat disappointed. Freddy had told him that the wife always greeted the security people. But maybe she wasn't feeling well. Her cheeks looked flushed and her eyes glassy, she seemed almost feverish, perhaps she was ill.

"Has Mr. Lockwood come home yet?" the bodyguard asked and Brian's mood brightened immediately at the opportunity of being helpful.

"No, Mr. Lockwood has not returned," he replied with an affirmative nod.

Damon gave him a thankful nod and guided the woman towards her room. When they reached the door, he suddenly spun around and addressed Brian in a rush: "Did you hear that?"

Brian felt heat rise to his cheeks, adrenaline instantly pumping through his veins. He hadn't heard anything but he had no doubt that Damon could pick up on things that he missed. "What is it?" he asked, instantly alert.

Damon put a finger over his mouth to silence him and motioned for him to follow him down the hallway. Brian instantly approached, walking as silently as he could and pulling his gun out of its holster.

"Go somewhere safe," Damon whispered to Mrs. Lockwood before leading Brian down the hall towards the unoccupied rooms.

* * *

><p>Tiredly, Damon stepped into his room. They hadn't found anybody or any sign of an intrusion and so Brian had gone back to his post by the elevator. Damon let out a breath. Today had been a long day. Certainly an emotional day. He dropped his phone and key card onto the small sideboard next to the door before turning to flip on the lights. Before he could reach the switch, the door fell shut behind him, plunging him into complete darkness. He could sense the presence behind his back before he could feel the intruder's hands on his skin, heard the rustling of movement before he heard the flat breathing. A hand came out of nowhere, grabbed his left wrist and twisted his arm behind his back, not painfully far but enough to impair his movability. His right hand shot to the gun in the holster strapped underneath his dinner jacket but his adversary was faster, pushing up under his jacket and grabbing the gun before he could reach it. The foreign hand slowly pulled the weapon away from his body and weighed it appraisingly.<p>

"I was hoping you would come," he said in a smooth voice, barely above a whisper.

His words had the desired effect, shocking the other person into a short stupor. He quickly turned around, freeing his left arm and shoving the other body against the wall, both hands pushed up next to their head. He smirked cockily, leaning in slightly. He had gotten used to the darkness now and could see the eyes that were staring up at him dart down for only an instant, almost too quick to be noticed – but notice he did.

"I told you not to look before kicking a guy in the balls!" he chided.

Elena rolled her eyes and pulled her hands free, discarding the gun onto the sideboard next to Damon's phone. "How did you know it was me?" she whined.

"Your perfume," he replied, pushing her back against the wall lightly and burying his nose in the crook of her neck. Elena bent her head slightly to grant him easier access and he could feel her pulse quicken as he traced light kisses along her throat and then down her collarbone. "Plus, I was expecting you."

"You were lying about hearing someone to distract the security guy, weren't you?" she asked, burying her fingers in his soft hair.

"I was," he confirmed, raising his head so he could look into her eyes.

"I was hoping you were," she replied before their lips met in a searing kiss. Elena lifted her leg to allow him to shift between her thighs and Damon's hand immediately found the exposed skin and drove up across the forming goose bumps towards the laced hem of the slit so generously revealing her to him.

Elena moaned and suddenly dropped her leg and began pushing Damon backwards toward his bed. On their way he let his hand push open the zipper on the back of the expensive garment wrapped around her exquisite body and let the mass of purple silk and lace plunge to her feet, closely followed by his jacket that Elena pushed off of his shoulders irreverently. When his calves bumped against the mattress, he felt her hands push him down and as soon as he sat down on his sheets she climbed onto his lap, straddling him, wrapping her arms around his neck. The gasp that Damon let out as her mostly naked body pressed against him was swallowed immediately by her kiss. He ran the palms of his hands up her bare back, tracing the two flexing strands of muscle running underneath her skin.

Elena felt heat rise up throughout her body. She swiftly unbuttoned Damon's shirt to get him naked as quickly as possible. She felt her skin buzz from anticipation. All day she had been sure that this was never going to happen and now that it was about to, she couldn't imagine going even another day without his touch on her skin. It had almost happened before but they had been interrupted. And she knew that they could be interrupted again. But she couldn't bring herself to stop because of a possibility. Her breathing quickened at the feel of his toned chest pressed to hers, skin on skin, and his strong arms closing around her like a cocoon. When they briefly broke apart for air, he flipped them over, throwing her onto the mattress and covering her body with his own in a second. When Elena looked up, all she could see in the ocean of darkness enveloping her were his eyes, drinking her in.

"I had to come here," she said quietly, tracing his ear and then his jaw with her fingers.

Damon didn't reply but only looked at her inquisitively.

"You told me to go somewhere safe," she elaborated. "This is the safest place I know. Right here. In your arms."

* * *

><p><em><strong>I know. It's mean of me to stop here. But my mom's reading this so I'm sorry but no sexy times in this one ;) Hope you still liked it.<strong>_


	15. Chapter 15

_A/N: Hello! And Happy New Year! ;) I know I've been neglecting this story horribly and I'm really sorry! Thanks so much to everyone who's still reading this and leaving me encouraging reviews. You have no idea how much it means to me! So while I am still focussed on finishing "Second Chances", I wanted to update to let you know that I am NOT ever giving up on this story and I will come back to it full time asap._

_Also all of you who were angry with me for ending the last chapter where I did, I have published an M-Rated oneshot called "Maybe Less, Maybe a Little More" that I'm actually pretty proud of. So anyone who wants to know how I do smut, feel free to check that out ;)_

_Again, thank you soooooo much for everything! Sorry for the long A/N, I ramble when I'm grateful. Hope you enjoy._

* * *

><p><strong>The fifteenth chapter, in which someone is fooled, and someone is not<strong>

_Better or worse, but what else can we do?  
>And better or worse I am tethered to you.<br>If it's not either of us, tell me who are we fooling?_  
>"Who are we fooling?" – Brooke Fraser feat. Aqualung<p>

The warming, comforting scent of cinnamon filled the air. Soft music was playing on the kitchen radio. Elena stirred the smooth batter, pushing the spoon through the sticky dough.

"You look sexy behind the stove."

Elena was startled by the voice intruding upon her reminiscent solitude. But the surprise was replaced quickly by a rush of exhilaration. With a bright smile she turned around towards the voice she had unknowingly missed all morning. Damon was leaning against the doorframe, one leg crossed casually across the other, watching her. Elena wondered for how long he had been standing there.

"Sexist much?" she questioned, raising an eyebrow and mockingly reprimanding him.

A smile broke out on Damon's face as he pushed himself away from the opening that led towards the living room behind him. With seemingly calculated steps, his eyes never leaving hers, he leisurely walked towards her.

"You always look sexy. You just happen to be standing by the stove right now. What's a man to do?" he asked, lifting his shoulders innocently.

"Smooth," Elena acknowledged with a slight roll of the eyes, before turning back around and dropping the spoon into the batter.

Instead of answering her, Damon wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her body softly into his. She was pliant under his touch, fitting her frame to his, melting into the embrace.

"How has your day been?" he asked, carefully swiping her hair from her shoulder.

"It's getting better by the second," she replied, lifting her hand to run her fingers through the short hairs at the back of his neck. She felt his lips delicately on the skin of her shoulder and immediately felt her body respond to his kisses, felt heat charge through her and a flurry rumble in the pit of her stomach. The effect Damon had on her was startling. As long as she could remember, she had never missed physical contact, had usually even dreaded it. She had never hungered for someone's touch and had never longed for someone's kiss but she did now. She was desperate for it. Quickly she swirled around in his arms and wrapped hers around his neck.

"I hate it when you're not here," she whispered and then pulled him closer to finally seal their lips in a kiss filled with all the yearning she felt.

"Keeping you safe is a time-consuming job," Damon murmured, letting both hands dive into her hair and anchoring her, her forehead against his.

"How was your day?" she returned his earlier question.

"It had too little of you in it," he replied with a grin which prompted her to return one just as bright. "Other than that it was fine." They finally let go of each other and Damon leaned against the counter while Elena returned to her cooking endeavors. "I looked a little into Elijah Mikaelson. You were right. He doesn't seem to be involved with his brothers' business at all."

"Then why is he meeting with Mason?" Elena questioned, her brow furrowed pensively.

"I haven't the faintest idea," Damon admitted before leaning over and dipping a finger into the batter. With a shocked expression Elena tried to swat his hand away but he was too quick and already licking the sugary paste off with the cheekiest expression he could muster.

Elena smiled, wanting to give into the easiness of their conversation, wanting to let the mild sunlight streaming through the window and the sense of security that always enveloped her when Damon was around lull her into a pleasant feeling of content. It would be too easy, with him so close to her and the rest of the world seemingly so far away. But a faint apprehension roiled in the pit of her stomach, not allowing her to submit to the surely treacherous hope life dangled in front of her. "Is this something we should worry about?" she asked, her face suddenly turning serious again.

"No," Damon shook his head. "It is something_ I_ should worry about."

"You don't have to protect me from _everything_, you know," she complained, pouting slightly.

"Yes I do. It's what I get paid for," he returned with a slight smile.

Elena shook her head, all playfulness gone now. "Not things like this, Damon. Don't treat me like I'm weak, like I need to be left out of important matters."

Damon's face turned serious as he pondered her reaction for a second. "I would never try to leave you out," he tried to explain. "If I find out anything concrete, I'll let you know immediately. I promise," he added. Elena nodded.

Damon wanted to reach out for her, wanted to reassure her that he hadn't meant to make her feel weak, that she surprised him every day with her fire and her hidden courage. But just as he was about to grab her hand, they heard the door to the suite being flung open in the next room and Elena flinched away from him. Damon was surprised by the pain her reaction caused him. He was aware of the fact that they couldn't really be together, that she had to keep him a secret, that no one could know about his feelings for her – yet her physical rejection of him in this moment cut deep and despite his conscious understanding or her reaction, subconsciously it hurt him greatly.

"Babe!" came Vicki's shrill voice from the lounge. "Where are you?"

"In here," Elena replied tiredly, unenthused by her friend's visit.

"You won't believe what…" Vicki yelled while quickly walking towards them, cutting herself off as she entered the kitchen. "Oh. Hello," she greeted Damon, a spark in her eyes that Elena was unable to interpret.

"Mrs. Lockwood," he acknowledged with a curt nod.

"Would you leave us alone for a minute?" Vicki questioned, dropping her purse on a sideboard by the door. "I have some exciting but private news to share with my sister in law."

"Of course," Damon returned, stepping away from the counter and walking out of the kitchen without another look in Elena's direction. Vicki followed him with her eyes and waited for the suite door to fall shut before turning back around to Elena, a suggestive smirk on her face.

"I hope I wasn't interrupting anything," she stated, slowly walking towards the window and sitting down at the table below it.

"What would you have been interrupting?" Elena asked nonchalantly while moving to the kettle to make some water for tea.

"No. Champagne," Vicki ordered, earning her a surprised look. "I told you I had exciting news."

"Sounds very exciting," Elena acknowledge, walking over to the fridge to get a bottle of Champagne.

"It just looked like I interrupted something," Vicki clumsily segued back to their previous conversation. Elena groaned inwardly, having hoped to have diverted the conversation successfully.

"I asked him yesterday to look into something and he just came back to me," she explained vaguely while pulling the cork from the bottle.

"Look into what?" Vicki asked to Elena's great annoyance.

"Turns out it was nothing," she replied with a forced smile. "Now, what's that exciting news of yours?" She sat down at the table as well, placing two glasses between her and her friend and pouring the sparkling liquid into the thin-stemmed flutes.

This time, luckily, Vicki did let Elena change the topic. "Tyler re-proposed," she squealed and lifted her glass as if for a toast.

"Re-proposed?" Elena asked, not really understanding what that meant.

"Yes. He wants to renew our vows. We're leaving for a second honeymoon tonight."

"Oh wow, that's amazing," Elena replied, a little shell-shocked. During their time on the beach, Vicki had seemed less than certain about her marriage.

"Yes," her sister in law returned with a bright smile.

Elena's head was reeling. Just a week ago her friend had told her about all her doubts regarding her marriage and now she was giddy about recommitting?

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Vicki said with a little giggle.

"I'm just surprised, I guess," Elena stated. "In the beach house you said…"

"Psshh…" Vicki interrupted, waving her concerns away with an irritated flick of the wrist. "That was a rough patch," she explained. "We're good now. He said that the time we spent apart showed him how much I really mean to him and he wants to show me that I'm his number one priority. He wants us to start over."

"In that case I'm happy for you," Elena said with a light nod and a sincere smile.

"Thank you!" Vicki exclaimed, flinging herself forward and embracing Elena tightly. "We're leaving for Italy tonight."

"Wow, Italy. That sounds so romantic," Elena commented with a slight swoon, getting excited by her friend's delight.

"It will be!" Vicki beamed, pulling back before suddenly her eyes widened and a thrilled expression crossed her face. "You guys should come with us!" she exclaimed, grasping Elena's hands enthusiastically.

"What?" Elena laughed, looking at her friend with disbelief.

"You should! It'll be amazing! Just the four of us, lounging around on the beach and strolling through Venice. Come on."

"We can't," Elena laughed away Vicki's idea. "We are under 24-hour protection. We can't just up and leave," she reasoned.

"All the more reason to get away from here," Vicki maintained. "No one's going to follow you this spontaneously. And you'd get away from the stress for a while. It's perfect!"

Elena smiled slightly. Her sister in law had a point. It would be nice to get away from everything for a while. And Italy sounded perfect. But she knew Mason wouldn't go for it. It was abundantly clear to her that she was only a priority to him as long as it didn't interfere with his business and going to Italy would definitely interfere with business. Also, she didn't want to take her kids from their daily routine yet again. They had only just started school again and despite the awkwardness their full time protection provided, they seemed to fit in nicely. And another thought stopped her from getting excited by the idea: Damon wouldn't be there.

"That sounds amazing," Elena conceded. "But we really can't. It's just not a good time."

"Boo," Vicki complained with an exaggerated pout. "Well, I will send you a card every day to make you jealous and regret your decision."

Elena laughed. "Alright, I'll be looking forward to that," she smirked.

"Well, if I can't make you come with me, I'll have to leave you to your boring self because I have to go and pack for my fabulous second honeymoon," Vicki stated with a playfully haughty look while getting up and grabbing her purse.

Elena smiled and accompanied her friend to the door. "Well, you kids have fun," she said while hugging her goodbye.

"Stay safe, dork," Vicki commented before spinning around on her heel and strutting towards the elevator.

Elena smiled to herself and returned to the kitchen, finally turning her attention back to her baking. Mason wouldn't let her make dinner and she missed it. She was hoping that he wouldn't be opposed to recreational baking. It could hardly be deemed actual house work. She was also looking forward to the smiles on her children's faces when they would get home from school and be greeted by home-made cinnamon buns.

While they were in the oven, she went to put Mason's and her clothes into laundry bags so the maids would know to take them away and get them cleaned. When she picked up her dress from last night, she felt excitement stir inside her at the memories it conjured up – memories of how Damon had caressed her leg when she had lifted it through the long slit, memories of how he had unzipped the dress, slowly trailing his fingers along the skin of her back, making her shiver, memories of sleeping with him for the first time, of looking into his eyes when she came, of bliss that enveloped her entirely, a kind of bliss that she had never felt before in her life.

She heaved a small sigh, thinking back to what it had felt like to lie in his arms afterwards, to feel his fingers trace absent-minded patterns on her upper arm, to feel his naked skin against hers, his heat radiating into her body, to hear his voice murmur lowly, leisurely into her ear.

There was no solution to their situation; no amount of talking would change that. But they both knew that regretting what happened would be lying to themselves and they had agreed not to do that anymore.

Whether last night was her only night with Damon or whether it would be followed by others was beside the point. While the thought of never being with him again was painful, the memory of their night together would be enough to get her through many lonely ones to come.

She put the dress into one of the laundry bags and hung all their wrapped clothes onto the bedroom door before returning to the kitchen to check on the progress of her baking. She smiled as she pulled out the rolls, browned to golden perfection, still steaming and sizzling in the casserole. She breathed in the delicious scent before putting the dish down on the countertop, reaching for the frosting.

At that moment she heard the door to the suite open and recognized Mason's footsteps in the hallway. Elena wrinkled her forehead. It was the middle of the day. He wasn't supposed to be home.

"Mason?" she called, looking curiously towards the kitchen door.

When he stepped into the doorway, a small shiver ran up Elena's spine. He looked extremely irritated, his forehead pulled in a deep frown, his lips pressed together harshly.

"What's wrong?" Elena asked, starting to worry. He had bad news, she could feel it. A sudden jolt of fear shot through her. "Are the kids okay?" she asked, dropping the bowl of frosting onto the countertop.

"Is he here?" Mason asked, his voice severe, his eyes darting across the room.

"Who?" Elena asked, frowning in confusion.

"Mr. Salvatore," he stated, sounding annoyed. "Is he here?"

"No, I haven't seen him since earlier this morning," Elena replied, worry still eating at her heart.

Mason bristled with anger and turned around, walking back towards the foyer. "Come with me," he ordered, not looking at her.

"Mason, I was just…" she began, looking over to her still steaming cinnamon buns, but was cut short immediately.

"Now, Elena," he called sternly, making Elena jolt into action and follow her husband into the living area of the suite. She caught up with him just as he pulled open the door to the hallway and commanded a guard standing outside to call Damon.

Elena was getting more and more agitated. If he needed to see Damon this urgently, then surely something was very wrong. "What's going on, Mason?" she asked, wringing her hands nervously. "Did you receive another threat?"

"No," he replied curtly, pulling a file from his briefcase. Just as Elena wanted to ask further questions, Damon walked into the room. His eyes shot over to her quickly, but when he saw that she was as lost as he was, he focused his attention on Mason.

"What happened, Mr. Lockwood?" he asked, worry apparent in his eyes.

Mason waited for the door to fall shut before beginning to speak. "How long have you been sleeping with my wife?" he questioned abruptly, scowling at Damon with angry intensity.

Elena gasped in shock, rushing up to the men frantically before Damon had time to respond. "Mason, we're not…" she began, immediately cut off by the furious glare her husband shot her.

"Don't you dare lie to me," he spat, before turning his full attention back to his bodyguard. "How long?" he demanded.

"Sir, I don't…" Damon began calmly, trying to sound appeasing, but only enraging Mason more.

"You think you can fuck my wife in the hotel that I'm basically financing at the moment and it won't be brought to my attention?" he roared, flipping the file he had been holding open and slapping it onto the sofa table vehemently.

Elena flinched at the aggressive gesture before looking down at the evidence that was now sprawled across the small wooden table, making her world tilt off its axis. Pictures. Pictures, that looked like they came from a security camera inside the elevator. Pictures, that showed Elena clinging to Damon and kissing him. She felt heat shoot up her body and tears blur her vision.

"Mason, I…" she began, wanting desperately to make him unsee those pictures.

"Shut up!" he shouted, rage shooting from his eyes.

"Mr. Lockwood," Damon began again, his voice still calm. "I'm sorry, that was my fault. Your wife was upset and she had a little too much to drink, I took advantage of the situation. I apologize, Mrs. Lockwood," he said, turning to her with a pained expression. "I can't believe I abused your trust so grossly. Please forgive me." His voice was composed and calculated.

"Is this true?" Mason asked, turning towards Elena.

She stared at him, stunned. It was obvious in the pictures that Damon was not taking advantage of an inebriated woman – that she was desperately holding onto him and begging for his touch. Mason couldn't buy this excuse.

"Please don't blame your wife for my transgression," Damon added. Elena felt a tear roll down her cheek. It suddenly became clear to her what he was doing. He was giving Mason the chance to choose to be a man who saved his wife from a harassing employee instead of a man who had been cheated on. The idea of it pained Elena terribly. To deny what being with Damon had meant to her hurt more than the idea of never being with him again.

Even though Elena still couldn't find it in her to speak, Mason seemed to be satisfied.

"Never come near my wife again," he said, collecting the printed out images, his voice now frosty rather than angry. "Instruct Agent Roberts to take over your position and get out of my sight."

An icy coldness clamped tightly around Elena's heart, making it almost impossible for her to breathe. Mason was sending him away. The one man who had made her glad to be alive, who had made her body light up with desire, who had given her a sense of family and home amidst the lurking shadow of imminent disaster – and she would never see him again.

"Mason, no. We need him. To protect us," she began frantically, grasping at any straw that might give her hope. "He has to pick up Jenna and Jeremy from school later. He has to keep them safe," she rattled on, aware that she was probably undoing everything Damon had just done to give her a chance at saving her marriage, but unable to stop herself.

"Stop it, Elena," Mason commanded sternly, anger resurfacing in his eyes. "You gave me no choice but to fire him."

"Mrs. Lockwood," she heard Damon's voice behind her, obviously desperate to get her to calm down.

"No!" she exclaimed, grabbing onto Mason pleadingly. "You can't!" Her mind was spinning. What could she say to keep him? "The kids love him."

Mason stilled completely and looked at her murderously. "The _kids_ love him?" he spat, taking a menacing step towards her.

"Mr. Lockwood, come on, I'm leaving," Damon bargained.

"No!" Elena cried, tears springing to her eyes and running down her face. Mason only looked at her for a second before pulling back his arm and slapping her across the face with the back of his hand. Elena stumbled and fell to the floor, her head pounding and the skin on her cheek burning intensely.

"Don't you dare hit her!" Damon fumed, lunging at Mason and striking him with his fist. Mason tumbled to the floor as well, holding his jaw.

"You just signed your death sentence," Mason growled, looking up at Damon menacingly. "You will never work in this town again."

"Don't threaten me with your power when you feel the need to reaffirm it by hitting your wife," Damon spat disdainfully. He held his hand out to help Elena up but before she could grasp it, Mason had grabbed something else from his briefcase and jumped to his feet. Elena paled when she saw what he was now directing at Damon. A gun. It was black and matted and looked lethal in his hand.

"Mason, stop," she whispered pleadingly, leaning forward to place a soothing hand onto his forearm. Just as her skin touched his, he spun his head around and shoved her back to the floor aggressively, the hand holding the gun still pointing at Damon.

"Shut the hell up!" he fumed, whirling his head back around, only to be looking down the barrel of a gun himself.

Damon had used the second of inattention on Mason's part to grab his own fire arm from its holster and direct it at him menacingly. Elena whimpered, overwhelmed by the way this situation had spun out of control. Both men were now staring unflinchingly at each other. Finally, Damon was the first one to speak.

"Come on, man," he began, slowly lifting his free hand in an appeasing gesture. "This is ridiculous."

"This is beyond ridiculous," Mason fumed. "You threatening me!" He looked disgusted. "You swore to protect me with your life."

Damon shook his head slowly, his eyes never leaving Mason's, the rest of his body rigid. "You fired me," he stated in a calm voice. "I'm only still here to make sure you don't hurt Elena."

"Elena, huh?" Mason asked, before turning his face back to his wife. "You think you can disrespect me like this?" he barked at her, the hand with the gun never wavering.

"Please, Mason, I'm sorry," Elena pleaded, tears running down her face.

"What?" Mason spat in return. "Are you going to tell me it was only one time? Are you going to tell me it didn't mean anything?" Elena continued to cry, unable to force any words out of her mouth. "You ungrateful slut!"

"Hey, don't talk to her like that," Damon shouted, anger now etched into his formerly calm features.

"You need to shut the fuck up," Mason sneered, turning his attention back to the man he was threatening with a gun. "Did she tell you she was unhappy? Did she ask you to take her away from this life and live with her on that fucking beach? Did she make you believe she had feelings for you?" His head shot back over to where Elena was still sitting on the floor, imploring him with her eyes to stop. "Did you? Like you did with me?"

"Mason, please stop," she begged, her voice raspy.

"Did you tell him how I found you? Did you tell him where you'd be now, if I hadn't rescued you from your godforsaken life?" His whole body was shaking now from the rage that boiled inside him. A single tear squeezed out of the corner of his eye and rolled down his anger-reddened cheek. "I saved your life!" he pressed out. "And you promised you'd stay with me, forever. That's all I ever asked, Elena. You promised."

Elena felt hollow inside, hollow from crying and hollow from having to listen to his words. She had told Damon how they had met but she had not gone into details about her life before Mason, had hinted at the events that had scarred her but not elaborated on the severity of them, had told him that Mason had taken her with him into a better life but she hadn't admitted just how awful her life before him had been, hadn't told Damon that Mason had saved her in more ways than one. Mason was right. She owed him her sanity and probably her life. He had taken her away from the desolation that had been her existence, had kept her safe, had given her two amazing children, and she had repaid him by cheating on him. She was shocked by herself, by her selfishness and ungratefulness. He didn't deserve to be betrayed. He didn't deserve to be made to feel second-best to anyone. He deserved her eternal gratitude and support.

"You're right, I'm sorry," she whispered, her eyes glued to the floor in shame. "Mason, I'm so sorry."

"Elena, you don't have to listen to this," Damon argued from his spot near the door. "You don't have to let him talk to you that way."

"No, Damon, he's right," she said, flicking her reddened eyes up to meet his. "This was a mistake. I'm sorry. Please leave." The anguish she saw on his face broke her heart all over. Two men were standing in front of her – one she loved and one she owed her life to – and while she deserved neither of them, she had broken both their hearts.

"Elena," he began, his voice taught, as if something was choking him.

"Please go," she asked again, a little more forceful this time. Damon lowered his gun, staring at Elena abjectly. "Please, I want you to go," she sobbed, unprepared for the pain her own words were causing her.

Damon's eyes flicked from her to Mason who was still standing in the same position as before, his arm stretched out and holding the gun, his eyes vacant, his whole posture rigid, like a statue, all fight gone from him. He looked back at Elena who was sitting on the floor, unable to look at him, silent tears streaming down her face. He pulled his free hand through his hair in shock, unable to comprehend what had just happened. Until ten minutes ago, this had been the most perfect day of his life. He had woken up to memories of Elena in his arms, Elena's skin under his fingertips, Elena's moans and gasps in his ears, Elena's soft hand trailing reverently across his abs and her fingers gripping forcefully into his hair. He had woken up to memories of her curled up to his side afterwards, her leg entwined with his, her arm clinging to him, her breath fanning across his chest, her soft voice and tired, content giggles vibrating against his skin. He had woken up to memories of her soft, pliant lips, her silky hair that tickled his stomach, the taste of her skin as he had nipped at her arms and abdomen, her eyes that had bored into his with a passion and devotion he had never seen in anyone's eyes before. He had been able to hold her again, in her kitchen, kiss her, listen to her voice, have her look at him again with that immense emotion in her eyes that he hadn't yet dared to label. And now, an hour later, she had pulled the floor out from under his feet. They had agreed upon one thing last night – that it wasn't a mistake – and now she had told him it was, making him feel sick to the stomach.

He drew in a sharp breath, put his gun back in its holster and slowly walked backward towards the door, his eyes never leaving her, willing her to change her mind, to admit that she felt about him like he did about her, to ask him not to leave her – God knew he wouldn't. He would take her wherever she wanted to go, would give her whatever she wanted from him, would fight her husband for the kids, would do everything in his power to make her happy. If she only so much as looked at him, he would not relent until she left here with him. But she didn't. She sat on the floor, immobile, her eyes turned to the floor, not even granting him a last farewell as he stepped into the hallway and let the door fall shut behind him.

As soon as the door had fully closed, Mason's stiffness dissolved and he stumbled a few steps back, dropping into an armchair helplessly, the gun tumbling from his hand onto the ground. A muffled sob broke from his chest as he buried his head in his hands.

Elena looked up tiredly, waiting for she didn't know what. For a while they were both silent, sitting in the quiet room that suddenly felt far too big. The sun streaming in through the window suddenly didn't warm their home but cast a paradoxical light upon their situation, making tiny grains of dust dance melancholically in its lazy rays. The silence and the knowledge that she had sent Damon away threatened to overwhelm Elena if she were to dwell on either any longer, so she slowly moved over to where Mason was still sitting in the armchair and reached out for him, desperate for forgiveness, another altercation, a hateful glare, anything that meant not being left alone with her torturous thoughts.

When her hand touched his arm, Mason flinched, dropping his hand and looking at her anxiously. His eyes were red and swollen, his cheeks dampened from the tears he had pressed against them with his palms.

"You promised you would never leave me," he stated with an expression that didn't seem to know if it wanted to plead or accuse.

"I'm not leaving you," Elena tried to reassure him, grabbing his hand with hers.

"You can't," he persisted, leaning over and resting his forehead against hers. "I need you."

Elena stared up at him quietly. She didn't doubt that he was serious and honest. She didn't, however, have the slightest idea why it was he thought that he needed her. They had gotten along well in the beginning, but she had long since stopped to believe that he was in love with her. They shared their lives, they supported each other, but she didn't feel like either actually needed the other for anything other than monetary reasons, and she was the only one benefitting from their marriage in that respect. Anything she could offer him, the companionship, the trophy on his arm, the sexual partner for the few times that he was still looking for one, any other woman could offer him as well, and probably better.

It didn't matter though, why he thought he needed her. As long as he did, she would be there for him. She owed him that much at least. If she could give him nothing else, at least she could give him her loyalty.

"I would never leave you," she stated, brushing his hair from his forehead.

He breathed a few deep breaths, calming down slowly, before his features turned stern again. "Don't ever do that again," he said quietly, his voice determined now, all vulnerability gone from him. "You're never to see him again."

"Okay," Elena pressed out, her voice shaky, new tears gathering in her eyes. When she had sent Damon away, Elena had felt like it was the only possible resolution to that particular situation. But now that the finality of it was slowly sinking in, it hit her in a wave of pain that took her breath away.

Without another word, Mason got up and went into their bedroom, slamming the door behind him. Elena sat on the floor, miserable, unable to move until she heard the shower turn on. Then, suddenly – as she no longer felt her husband's eyes on her, as his presence no longer forced her into acceptance – strangled sobs tore through her chest and echoed in the silence around her. How could she have gotten everything so wrong and turned everything into such a horrible mess? She was used to being in pain herself. But how could she have hurt two good men so terribly.

Slowly, she got up and moved back into the kitchen, absent-mindedly smearing the frosting onto the cinnamon buns until it turned flaky. In her mind she was running after Damon down the stairs, was grabbing him, was apologizing to him, was telling him all the things she knew she could never really tell him. A million times over the course of this endless, dreadful day, her eyes wandered towards the phone, her fingers itching to reach for it. A million times she imagined simply grabbing her purse, walking out of the door and never coming back. But she couldn't. Couldn't betray her husband, her savior so grossly. He deserved better. And so did Damon. He deserved to be with a woman who wasn't as broken as her, a woman who wasn't as selfish as she had been – leading him on when she had known perfectly well that they could never have a future together. The idea of it had simply been too unbelievably wonderful for her to resist.

It was late in the afternoon, when a knock on the door made Mason reappear. After a day of exhausting solitude and hearing noises from her husband but not feeling able to go and see him, Elena almost felt a rush of relief at his presence. His leisurely movements, his composed expression, it was almost as if their world hadn't just crumbled to pieces.

Before Elena could reach the door, Mason was there, pulling it open, revealing one of their guards, a distraught expression on his face. "What is it?" Mason demanded gruffly.

"Mr. Lockwood, Mrs. Lockwood, I'm afraid I have to ask you to come with me to a more secure location", the agent said sternly, his eyes betraying his worry.

"Why?" Mason questioned. Elena felt fear crawl up her spine. There had to have been another threat. Somehow, the blackmailers had to have heard about Damon's leaving and were now jumping at the chance to capitalize on their momentary weakness. How, Elena wondered, had the news travelled so quickly? There had to be someone in their inner circle working with them.

"Has there been another threat?" Elena asked, unable to keep the concern out of her voice.

"I'm afraid there's been an incident," the agent said. And suddenly Elena realized that it wasn't worry she had seen in his eyes, it was sympathy. "It seems your children have been taken from their school."

Elena's heart halted. It had already been broken today, but now it simply stopped beating. Her legs gave out under her as prickling darkness threatened to swallow her whole.

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><p><em><strong>AN: The shit hath hitteth the fan. Let's get this party started ;)**_


	16. Chapter 16

_A/N: Hello beautiful people! I am sooooo sorry for making you wait this long. But I have finished "Second Chances" and am now fully focussed on this story, so here it is - a new chapter. Thank you all for being so patient and supportive! You are the best and I am eternally grateful._

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><p><strong>The sixteenth chapter, in which trust and beliefs must be put into question<strong>

Elena felt her knees hit the floor, felt blackness encroach upon her. But no! She would not allow herself to succumb to her sense of helplessness this time. She refused to crumble in the face of tragedy. Fate could throw her whatever it wanted, she could take it, she had taken it all her life. She would not be shocked into impotence while her children were in danger. She lifted her head and stared at the agent and her husband, seeing them as if far removed, as if through a veil.

"What happened?" she asked, her voice foreign and surprisingly loud to her own ears.

"Miss Forbes and Agent Roberts are in the hospital. So far, what we've been able to determine, is that they have been drugged and rendered unconscious. We hope they will be able to tell us more when they wake up. Unfortunately, we have no knowledge of your children's whereabouts."

Elena felt a stab inside her chest at the last words. She looked towards Mason. He _had_ to take action. He _had_ to do something. She had stayed with him because he had once promised to never let anything happen to her. This was the first real test of that promise.

Mason looked as helpless as she felt. His eyes shot from hers to the agent's, looking for an answer neither would be able to give him.

"What measures have been taken to find them?" he finally asked.

"The police have been informed," the agent began. "They have put out an APB and are positioning units at the airport, the train station and the bus terminal."

Elena felt her heart sink. It sounded like a lot of action, a lot of buzz, but in her heart she knew it would be ineffective. They could be taken by car, they could be held in a basement, they could easily be drugged and kept quiet. What would police units at the airport do? They should have kept them safe in the first place. They should have made it impossible for them to be taken. She felt bile rise up inside her. She was certain that it was no coincidence that this had happened today. She was certain that the kidnappers had capitalized upon the turmoil in their protection team. She was certain that Damon would have never let anything happen to her children. He would have protected them. They would still be safe.

"This is your fault," she pressed out, getting up slowly while shooting a death glare at her husband, unable to hide her fury.

"What?" he asked, his face set in an expression of utter consternation.

"You did this!" she yelled, growing more enraged by the second. "Damon would have protected them! They are gone because you sent him away!"

Mason shook his head in quiet anger. "Stop it, Elena," he ordered, his jaw ticking in irritation. "You're in shock. You're not thinking straight."

"How dare you!" She spat out. "You _know_ that he would have protected them!"

"For all I know, he was the one who took them!" Mason shouted back, no longer able to control his temper.

"He would _never_ do that," Elena replied, too stunned by her husband's allegations to speak in more than a whisper.

"Maybe he played you, Elena!" Mason continued. "Maybe this was his plan all along! Don't you think it's a strange coincidence that the threats started right after he started working for us? Don't you think it's a strange coincidence that this happened _today_? Open your eyes, Elena! This is what happens when you blindly whore yourself out to the first guy who will have you."

Elena flinched at the harsh words. She couldn't believe Mason would have an outburst like this, heedless of all propriety and discretion – Mason, who cared about nothing as much as about appearances. The shock stunned her into sobriety.

"You can think of me what you want," she stated calmly. "You can be angry with me, you can be disgusted by me, but you _know_ he would never hurt the kids. You can hate it, but you can't deny it."

Mason stared at her quietly for a few moments before turning back to the agent. "I want you to send a unit to question Mr. Salvatore," he stated calmly. "I also want constant updates on any information you get about the whereabouts of my children and any developments regarding Agent Roberts and Miss Forbes." The agent nodded. "What are the next steps?" he then asked.

"We want to take you to a new location," the agent responded.

"Why?" Elena asked. "What if the kidnappers try to contact us here?"

"We will position an agent here. But we have to assume that the kidnappers know your location and your routine. We also have to assume that they have access to inside information. Therefore we want to limit the number of people involved in your protection to an essential, trustworthy core. That won't be possible in this location."

"Where will you take us?" Mason asked, ignoring his wife.

"Well…" the agent's eyes shot towards Elena as if unsure if he could speak freely in front of her. "The person you asked us to evaluate has been vetted and approved. We could move you to their house today."

"What?" Elena asked surprised. Mason didn't reply but seemed to ponder the option for a second. "Who did you have vetted?" Elena asked again, staring at Mason challengingly.

He looked at her for a moment, gauging the situation carefully, before finally speaking. "Elijah Mikaelson," he answered matter-of-factly, before returning his attention back to the agent. "Yes, prepare the move," he confirmed.

"Elijah Mikaelson?" Elena questioned perplexed.

"Yes. Pack your bags," her husband replied plainly, before moving back into the suite to do the same.

Elena followed him hurriedly. "What are you talking about? I'm not moving into Elijah Mikaelson's house," she stated.

"Yes, you are," Mason replied drily. "You have forfeited your right to be involved in the decision-making process."

"But…" Elena was grappling to understand what was happening. "But we don't know him," she continued, still flabbergasted. "Why would we move in with a stranger?"

"He's not a stranger," Mason returned bluntly. "He's a business partner and a friend."

"A friend?" Elena gasped. "We met him once at a Christmas Party. You are constantly complaining about his family. How can you trust him?"

Mason turned around with heat in his eyes. "I trust him more than I trust you, right now," he stated, before turning back around to resume packing.

* * *

><p>Elena was sitting in a stranger's library, on a stranger's couch, surrounded by a stranger's books. In her hand was a stranger's porcelain cup filled with tea that she couldn't bring herself to drink. Caroline and Agent Roberts had woken up and were being questioned, so Elena and Mason were sitting here, waiting by the phone for a call from either the police or the kidnappers – for information or demands.<p>

A security agent was standing by the far wall, an earpiece, only visible to those who knew it was there, in his ear, his eyes incessantly scanning the room, a look of perpetual determination on his face. Outside the window, she saw men clad in black pass by from time to time, holding equally as black semi-automatic guns. Elena could barely breathe. She was too occupied with being nervous and waiting.

Mason had stopped pacing a few minutes ago and was now dejectedly lounging in the armchair farthest away from her seat on the couch. It was situated by the fire place, part of a set of two that were halfway facing the flames and halfway each other. He sat there, staring at the sparks in the hearth, nursing a tumbler he had inexplicably known where to find and filled with an amber liquid.

Elena looked at the back of his head. Even though only a few feet separated them, she felt like they were miles apart. Even though she was surrounded by people, she had never felt more alone. She longed for Damon, longed for his arms to protectively shield her from these horrors, and for his support – the inexplicable way in which his strength always made her feel stronger, too.

Her cellphone rang.

Elena jumped and stared at the little black device that was lighting up merrily on the coffee table in front of her. Only a second later the machine the police had brought with them started ringing as well, picking up the call that was automatically being transferred to it from Elena's phone. It was a monstrosity, a phone that was also a recording device and that allowed the police to track any call made to one of the connected phones.

Mason shot up from his seat and stormed over towards the table, while at the exact same moment the door to the adjoining room burst open and three policemen burst into the library.

"Answer it," one of them said to Elena while flipping switches on the intimidating device.

With a shaky hand Elena pushed the button that opened the line.

"Hello?" she asked into the silence.

"Mrs. Lockwood," a technologically distorted voice greeted in a jovial tone. "How do you do?"

Elena choked up from the kidnapper's callousness. "What do you want?" she pressed out.

"I want to make sure no harm comes to your children," the caller answered. "I do hope you want the same thing."

Elena felt tears spring into her eyes. "Don't you dare hurt my children!" she threatened, one hand gripping furiously into the arm rest.

"Now now," the voice chided, the mechanical tone contradicting the nonchalant words. "I did try to make this all as easy as possible for everyone. But you and your husband didn't play along, now did you?" Elena felt a frisson rush up her spine. "So I would say it is entirely your fault that sweet Jenna and Jeremy are now in harm's way. Wouldn't you agree?"

"You bastard!" Mason shouted from the other side of the table.

"Mr. Lockwood!" The voice exclaimed, sounding almost cheerful. "I'm glad to hear you and your wife are going through these rough times together. Wasn't sure that would be the case."

Elena's heart stopped and her eyes shot up to meet her husband's. This person knew them. Not just of them – not just who they were – they knew that they were having problems. Who could know that? Mason stared at her in return, and she could see that he was wondering the same thing.

"Who are you?" he asked, his voice stern, his eyes never leaving Elena's.

The voice on the other end of the line sighed. "That is of so little importance," it stated in a bored drawl. "Don't worry about that now. The real question is this: How can you make me happy?"

"The real question is: Can you run fast enough so the hit-men I've hired to kill you don't catch up with you?" Mason threatened.

"Oh Mason …" the voice began, sounding almost disappointed. "It's really not."

Elena could tell her husband was seething. Carefully she reached out one hand and let it rest on his arm, trying to calm him.

"Tell you what," the kidnapper continued. "I won't even be exigent. Just pay the ten million I've asked for and the little ones will be fine. I will call back with instructions in twenty-four hours. I'm sure you'll manage to get the money by then." With a click the call was disconnected.

* * *

><p>Two hours had passed since the call – two hours of frantic telephone calls, of nervous pacing, of hope and despair alternating by the second. The police had advised against paying the ransom and Elena had lost it. She had looked at Mason, almost blind from anger, and sworn to tear out his heart with her bare hands if he still didn't pay. He had looked at her then, for the first time that day without resentment, had put his hands on her shoulders and looked at her, pleadingly, openly, demanding her trust with his eyes. "I will do anything, Elena," he had said and she had believed him. "I swear to you, whatever it takes, whatever he asks, I will do it." He had looked into her eyes until she had nodded her head in acceptance. Only then had he turned around and barked at his assistant to call his accountant. He needed to liquidate his assets and take out a loan against the company.<p>

Questioning Agent Roberts and Miss Forbes hadn't produced any new information. They had been attacked from behind and drugged, just like Elena had a few weeks back, but neither had seen the attacker or heard them speak so any information they could give was vague at best.

Darkness had settled outside and Elena was sitting on the couch again, feeling restless and helpless, wishing there was something she could do. Mason was back in the chair by the fire, his forehead wrinkled, his eyes pressed closed, his thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of his nose. Elena was watching him. For the first time that day she felt sad and hopeless not only for herself but for him, too. A short while ago Vicki had called from Rome to announce their safe arrival, had been shocked by the news and reluctantly offered they return home immediately, but Mason had refused. "They're fine," Vicki had said, wanting to sound encouraging. "I'm sure they're fine. I can feel it." Elena had watched Mason hang up on his sister in law and it was then that she had recognized that it was defeat that pulled down his shoulders. For a long moment he only stared at the phone blankly, emotionlessly.

"Mason?" she had finally asked, shaking him out of his stupor.

His eyes had flicked up to hers, bloodshot and watery. "What if they're not?" he had asked, his voice frail, his face full of doubt, begging her to reassure him.

"We have to believe that they are," Elena had said, begging him to not succumb to his fear, to stay strong with her. She knew she couldn't go through this by herself. "If I stop believing it, I won't be able to go on."

Something had changed in his eyes then. And for the first time in a very long time, he had done exactly what she had needed him to do. He had closed the distance between them and taken her in his arms, holding her close, holding her together, preventing her from shattering into pieces. "As long as you believe, I'll believe," he had whispered before pressing a chaste kiss to the top of her head.

He seemed calmer now, but Elena could see the toll the day has taken on him. He looked wrecked. Yet, there was something different about him. For a long time now, he had begun to feel more and more unfamiliar to her. In the life they had built together, he had begun to stand apart, his body twitching uncomfortably on the mattress next to her and fidgeting restlessly on the sofa in the living room of their hotel suite. His suit jacket and briefcase were perpetually waiting to be picked up next to the door and his presence was feeling more and more like an intrusion. But now, his stiff back seemed to relax slightly. His body sank into the armchair like it was being welcomed home. Elena wondered if the shared trauma would be able to pull them back together – maybe not as lovers – maybe not as a family – but maybe at least as partners.

Slowly she got up and walked over to the second armchair. Carefully she sat down, sinking into the soft leather, watching her husband. Despite his closed eyes and his immobility, she could tell that he wasn't sleeping. His free hand was turning a tumbler absent-mindedly and his forehead was wrinkled, as if he was trying to work out a solution to the mess they were in all by himself. He looked worried and scared. Elena knew how that felt. She was sure that he needed comfort because she was in such dire need of it herself.

Cautiously she reached out her hand and let it run lightly through his hair. She didn't know what she was looking for – some sort of connection – some way to link their separate lives back together and get through this.

His head turned towards her touch instantly, trustingly. His forehead unwrinkled slightly and he let out a small sigh, as if some of the weight he was carrying was lifting off his shoulders.

Hope filled Elena. If only they could get past the resentment, past the anger and the pain, maybe they could help each other through the tragedy they were caught in together.

"Mason?" she asked quietly, wanting to see the same hope in his eyes.

His lids shot open suddenly and he jerked up slightly, staring at her in confusion for a second, before recognition settled upon his features.

Elena pulled back her hand, a new uncertainty suddenly flooding through her. Again, she had no idea where she stood with her husband. While a second ago she had had hope that they might be able to help each other, that she might be able to forgive him and allow him to console her and in return console him, the distant look on his face now made her wonder if she had imagined the short moment of trust only seconds ago.

She was just about to speak when a knock on the library door announced a new presence and when it was opened a second later, Elijah Mikaelson rushed into their lives not only by way of his theoretical presence that she could feel everywhere in his house, but as an actual living person.

He was standing in the door for a moment, absorbing the situation. He was dressed immaculately; the grey suit fitting him perfectly as if it had been sewn directly onto his body. His face betrayed no emotion for a while, before he finally allowed a look of compassion to settle around his eyes.

"Mrs. Lockwood," he began, suddenly turning all of his attention towards her. "It has been too long." With long, purposeful strides he walked up to her and shook her hand.

"Yes," Elena agreed hesitantly. "Thank you for offering to let us stay here."

"Oh, of course," he waved away her gratitude. "It is nothing. I'm glad I can help."

Elena watched him, trying to figure him out. Mason thought of this man as a friend and apparently the sentiment was mutual, yet she couldn't help but feel bewildered by his familiarity.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, his attention still fully on her.

"Fine, I…" Elena looked into his eyes, unable to finish her reply. They bore into hers, almost demanding her trust and her honesty. His hand was still holding hers, its warmth inexplicably giving her comfort. "I'm scared," she admitted, her voice suddenly shaky.

He nodded. "Naturally," he agreed, closing his second hand around their connected ones reassuringly. "If there's anything you need, just let me know."

"Thank you," Elena accepted quietly.

"Mason," he then said, letting go of her hand and turning towards her husband. "Could I have a word?" he asked, before instantly stepping back and walking towards the door.

"I'll be right back," Mason muttered before getting up and following their host out into the hall.

Elena watched him leave the room. Something felt off. Mason had looked uneasy and while Mr. Mikaelson had been warm towards her, he had seemed cold towards the person who actually considered him a friend. Already, their behavior had surprised Elena at the ball. But while she had discarded her concerns at the time, the situation had now become too dangerous for Elena to not trust her instincts. Something was wrong and she couldn't pretend it wasn't. She needed to figure out what was going on. In this situation, she was certain that it had to have something to do with her children and she couldn't live with herself without getting to the bottom of it.

"I'm going to the bathroom," she announced to the agent watching her, before walking out of the room and quickly tiptoeing down the hallway in search of her husband. She heard voices down the corridor and when she reached the corner, she saw her husband's back disappear inside a room and heard the heavy door close behind him. She quietly snuck towards it and put her ear against the wood, trying to make out what the muffled voices were saying.

"…horrible idea," she heard one man say that she thought was Elijah Mikaelson.

"Don't worry. Everything will be fine," the other voice, that she definitely identified as Mason's, said.

"What if she finds out?" the other man asked.

"She won't," Mason reassured him. "She doesn't suspect anything."

Elena's heart stopped. She felt a rush of adrenaline pump heat through her body while at the same time her fingers turned ice cold. This could only mean one thing. Her husband and Elijah Michaelson were involved.

Her head was spinning. Why would her husband possibly do this? Sure, he didn't privately have the kind of money the kidnappers had asked for, but Elena couldn't believe that he would put their children in danger for money. There had to be more. There had to be something she was missing.

She looked around but no one else was around. What was she to do? Should she run and get the police? But what would she tell them? She didn't have proof. She hadn't recorded the exchange between the two men and she didn't have any actual information. The police couldn't help her. She was on her own. The only chance she had now was to confront her husband and his co-conspirator. There was nothing they could do to her here and at least that way she would get some answers.

She pressed her ear against the door again, but couldn't make out any more sounds, so she straightened her back, tried to steady her frantic breathing and turned the door knob.


	17. Chapter 17

_A/N: Heeeeyyyy! It's me! With an update! And yes, I feel horrible about the long wait! I don't even have a good excuse except for general life stuffs :( But I want to reassure you that I will never EVER give up on this story. So please forgive me and bear with me. I really do feel terrible about the slow updates and I really appreciate everyone who's sticking with me. I will see this through and I will try and write faster but I don't want to half ass it, so I guess for now it is what it is. _

_Anyways, here we go. I am pretty excited about this chapter and I hope it'll make up a tiny bit for the long drought :)_

_Also no, I don't own TVD! Also, since it's been so long, let me get you caught up on where we left off last time:_

* * *

><p><strong>The seventeenth chapter, in which a man and wife rediscover each other<br>**

_Previously on "Saving You":_

_Elena watched her husband leave the room. Something felt off. Mason had looked uneasy and while Mr. Mikaelson had been warm towards her, he had seemed cold towards the person who actually considered him a friend. Already, their behavior had surprised Elena at the ball. But while she had discarded her concerns at the time, the situation had now become too dangerous for Elena to not trust her instincts. Something was wrong and she couldn't pretend it wasn't. She needed to figure out what was going on. In this situation, she was certain that it had to have something to do with her children and she couldn't live with herself without getting to the bottom of it._

_"I'm going to the bathroom," she announced to the agent watching her, before walking out of the room and quickly tiptoeing down the hallway in search of her husband. She heard voices down the corridor and when she reached the corner, she saw her husband's back disappear inside a room and heard the heavy door close behind him. She quietly snuck towards it and put her ear against the wood, trying to make out what the muffled voices were saying._

_"…horrible idea," she heard one man say that she thought was Elijah Mikaelson._

_"Don't worry. Everything will be fine," the other voice, that she definitely identified as Mason's, said._

_"What if she finds out?" the other man asked._

_"She won't," Mason reassured him. "She doesn't suspect anything."_

_Elena's heart stopped. She felt a rush of adrenaline pump heat through her body while at the same time her fingers turned ice cold. This could only mean one thing. Her husband and Elijah Michaelson were involved._

_Her head was spinning. Why would her husband possibly do this? Sure, he didn't privately have the kind of money the kidnappers had asked for, but Elena couldn't believe that he would put their children in danger for money. There had to be more. There had to be something she was missing._

_She looked around but there was no one else. What was she to do? Should she run and get the police? But what would she tell them? She didn't have proof. She hadn't recorded the exchange between the two men and she didn't have any actual information. The police couldn't help her. She was on her own. The only chance she had now was to confront her husband and his co-conspirator. There was nothing they could do to her here and at least that way she would get some answers._

_She pressed her ear against the door again, but couldn't make out any more sounds, so she straightened her back, tried to steady her frantic breathing and turned the door knob._

Elena had expected to find a lot of things behind that door – betrayal, danger, a threat to her life and that of her children. What she did find, however, was something she could not have imagined in a million years. And it caused her world to tilt off its axis completely. She found her husband leaning back against an old fashioned desk, supporting himself with his left hand while his right fist was clenched around Elijah Mikaelson's lapel, pulling him down to his level and at the same time craning his own neck so their lips could meet in a desperate kiss.

Elena stood in the doorway, immobilized from surprise. Sensory input was reaching her brain but it was not computing into a cohesive experience. She saw her husband kissing another man but she had yet to understand it.

As soon as the door had opened, the men's heads had turned towards it and immediately Elijah Mikaelson had stepped away, dropping his eyes to the floor. Mason had let the hand that had been clinging to the other man moments before sink down but had stayed otherwise immobile. His eyes were fixed on his wife now. Instantly the surprise she had seen in them turned into anger. A red hot fury directed at her, for interrupting them, for discovering them. The only thing holding him back from charging at her and throwing her against the wall seemed to be the shame she could also see on his face, warring with the rage and eventually only fuelling it further.

"Mason?" Elena asked, stupidly, needing to say something because the stillness they were all caught in seemed to suspend time and she desperately wanted to find a way to jump start it again, to leave this moment behind.

Her husband's eyes still bored into hers, emotions, thoughts and intentions warring behind them. Mr. Mikaelson's eyes however had shot up at the sound of her voice and they were now no longer directed towards the floor but looking at her intently, weighing her. And what she saw in them was different from what she could see in her husband's. There was no shame, no anger, there was – it took her a moment to recognize it – pity. Pity for the woman whose husband had fallen out of love with her. Pity for her, because she had been cheated on, probably for months, and had to find out this way, that her marriage had been a sham long before she herself had strayed. Pity because she had to find out this way. And she realized, then, that he was right – could see it in the men's eyes and the way their bodies were turned towards each other. She had been so blind. It all made sense suddenly. While it had been a long time since their honeymoon phase had passed, they had always been a team. Until recently. But their estrangement hadn't co-occurred with Damon's arrival, as she had guiltily assumed. It had gradually happened over the past six months – ever since they had been introduced to Elijah Mikaelson at a Christmas party. He trusted this man more than he trusted her, he had said so himself. The reason for the relaxation she had noticed in him was not, as she had assumed, that Damon had left or that they had found a renewed sense of togetherness through shared trauma. It was because he was here, surrounded by things that smelled like the man he loved. When his head had turned into her palm, it had not been because he felt comforted by her, it had been because he felt comforted by this place and his drowsy mind had deluded him, momentarily, into believing that it was his lover who was touching him and not his estranged wife. How often, she wondered, had the two men sat in those chairs by the fire, nursing drinks, looking into each other's eyes longingly, touching…

Slowly, the shock was waning. And then the realization suddenly jolted through her in a rush of adrenaline, that her husband didn't hate her. He only hated that their marriage prevented him from being with the person he loved. And a second realization followed – that it didn't hurt. It was a relief.

As if a coiled cord inside her had suddenly snapped, all these emotions and realizations burst out of her in one uninhibited giggle.

She saw the anger in Mason's eyes spark at the sound of her laughter, darkening into pure rage. But she couldn't stop it. Their situation was too ridiculous. The resentment they felt towards each other, the blame, it was all unnecessary. They had been so stupid. Laughter kept bubbling out of her. It was beyond her control. It wasn't gleeful, it was hysterical – like a little girl that's being tickled and can't help but laugh even though she feels more like crying. Too much had happened in the past days and she wasn't able to cope anymore – this was the only reaction her body could muster up, facing the travesty that was her life right now.

"Shut up!" Mason yelled, pushing off the table and storming towards her.

She tried. Tried hard to stop the fits of giggles spurting from her. Tried because she didn't want to make her husband angry, they had to move past the negativity. But she couldn't. Her body had started to laugh and she didn't have the strength to make it stop. Her knees buckled lightly under her and she slid down to lean against the doorframe, laughing and at the same time involuntarily raising her arms up to shield her from Mason who was charging at her.

"You will not mock me!" he thundered as he reached the spot where she was crouching on the floor and bent down to grab her and pull her up by the shoulders.

"No," she tried to reassure him as she was hoisted back up onto her feet.

"Mason," she heard their host try to interfere from behind her husband's back but Mason ignored both their interjections.

"You think this is funny?" he roared, pulling her away from the door and slamming it shut behind her.

"No," she protested again, her giggles subsiding, his roughness sobering her up somewhat. "No, Mason, I'm glad."

Mason stepped back, but only an inch, leaning his head backwards so he could look into her eyes, anger still visible on his face but now it was coupled with confusion. "What?" he asked.

"I'll wait in the parlor," Elijah Mikaelson announced and awkwardly walked past them, closing the door on his way out. Mason followed the other man with his eyes and Elena tried to decipher all the emotions that swam in them but she couldn't. When his eyes turned back to her, only one emotion was left, however, and that one she recognized right away – anger.

"You will not say a word about this," Mason threatened. "To anyone."

"Why?" Elena asked, having trouble understanding why he would want to keep it a secret, why he hadn't left her already. It was clear that he loved that man and it was just as clear that he didn't love her.

"Are you kidding me?" he spat, stepping away from her and walking back into the room, putting distance between them. "I have a reputation to uphold."

Elena watched him, disbelief in her eyes. "A reputation for what?" she asked, confusion evident in her voice.

"Family values!" he declared, pacing impatiently. "Morality."

Elena's eyes softened. "This is the 21st century, Mason," she argued conciliatorily. "No one would care that…"

She was interrupted by Mason abruptly turning towards her and throwing her a glance that wanted to kill. "That what?" he questioned, menace in his voice, his shoulders turning backwards aggressively.

"That…" she hesitated, unable to figure out why he was staring at her with such hostility. "That you're gay," she finally concluded, her palms raised slightly in the unconscious signal that this fact was evident.

"I am _not_!" he thundered, his hands clenched into fists, horror and outrage emanating from him.

"Mason," Elena tried to placate him, "I saw you."

"You saw nothing!" he exclaimed. "You hear me? Nothing!"

"I saw everything!" Elena returned, more force now in her voice. "I saw the way you look at each other. You never look at me that way. You love him."

"I'm not… it's not…" Mason sputtered, grappling with the words.

"He loves you, too. Don't deny him." Elena took a step towards him, wishing they were in a place where he would trust her enough to be honest.

"I'm not…" he began again and let the sentence trail off, the fight leaving him, his shoulders slumping. He turned his eyes up to hers, looking for something in them. Support, Elena guessed, maybe a way out, maybe acceptance, she couldn't be sure. She cocked her head to the side, watching him carefully and giving him an encouraging smile. "It's just him", he finally pressed out, his voice barely above a whisper.

Elena nodded. "I get it," she said, causing Mason to look at her in astonishment.

"You get what?" he asked, distrusting his wife's calmness. He had expected hatred, he had expected mockery, at the very least he had expected resentment. He had not expected understanding and he didn't trust it.

"I get being married and reasonably happy and having an idea of yourself as loyal and committed and then meeting a man who makes you discover something inside you that you never even dreamed existed and not being able to resist it," Elena explained, looking intently at her husband, gauging his reaction.

He stared at her and she could see different thoughts warring in his mind. "Damon Salvatore," he ground out, his voice heavily laced with resentment. Elena closed her eyes against the venom that spewed from his eyes. "It's not the same thing," he claimed angrily.

"Why not?" Elena demanded.

"Because!" Mason exclaimed. "Because you owe me. I saved your life and you repay me by betraying me."

"I do owe you. I owe you everything. But you don't own me. I never wanted to betray you, as I'm sure you didn't want to betray me. We fell in love, Mason. We didn't deliberately set out to hurt each other."

Mason rubbed his hands across his face tiredly and then walked over to a canapé, letting his body drop heavily onto the old cushions. "Come, sit," he requested softly, his eyes staring at the ground before his feet.

Elena walked over to him calmly and sat down, her eyes never leaving him, waiting for him to speak again.

"I did love you, you know," he said gently, raising exhausted eyes to hers.

"I believe you," she replied with a grateful smile.

"Do you remember," Mason began, amusement in his voice, "that day we went on that hike on our honeymoon and it started to rain?"

"Yes," Elena laughed lightly. "That was the best day of my life."

"It was?" Mason questioned, to which Elena simply nodded. "I thought the wedding is supposed to be the best day of a woman's life."

"Meh," Elena shrugged, making Mason scoff humorously. "Too stressful. Too much drama. Too much of your mom." She rolled her eyes playfully. "No, that day was the first day that I woke up happy and I went to bed even happier. I said to myself: you've met a man who takes being caught in the rain and turns it into the perfect date." She laughed lightly and felt herself relax when a small smile played around Mason's lips. "We jumped into that lake fully clothed, because you said we were wet anyways," she continued. "And then you found that abandoned cottage and made a fire and we dried our clothes over it. It was the first time in my life I felt comfortable being completely naked." She cast her eyes to the floor. "I think it was the last time I saw you carefree," she said, a sudden sadness rushing over her.

"That was the first time that I believed you liked me more than you needed my money," he said quietly. Elena's eyes shot up to meet his, sorrow etched on her features. "Don't worry," he waved away her shocked reaction. "I didn't hold it against you. I knew that what I could offer you was too powerful to leave room for actual feelings. I didn't mind. I was smitten. I wanted to have you, even if you only stayed for my money. Pathetic, isn't it?"

"Mason, I…" Elena tried to interject but was cut off immediately.

"I needed to get you away from those people, away from that place," he said, anger at the memory rising up inside him. "But that night, when you lay in my arms and the fire had died down and I could barely see you, you smiled at me, just lying there, staring into my eyes, smiling, for the longest time. And I thought that maybe you did have feelings for me after all."

"I did," Elena confirmed. "I accepted your proposal because I knew it was my way out, that's true. But I was happy. Our honeymoon was the happiest time of my life and when I told you I loved you, I meant it."

Mason nodded. "But it's not the same, is it?" he asked. "As it is with him."

"No, it's not," Elena whispered, nervously waiting for her husband's reaction.

"I broke up with Elijah," Mason stated, staring at the floor before him. "For a while. After you went to the house on the beach." He picked some invisible lint from his trousers. "You had never been gone before and I missed you. I wanted to give us another shot, make this work."

"But then I was too distant?" Elena assumed, feeling guilty for the way she had rebuffed Mason after their return.

"No," he replied, shaking his head. "No, then I saw him again. At the ball."

Something clicked in Elena's mind. "I saw you two leave," she remembered. "You got back together?"

He nodded. "I couldn't not be with him," he admitted quietly. "And I knew you and I weren't working. I guess it's partially my fault. I was feeling resentful towards you. I guess I wasn't really giving us a chance. Then again, neither were you."

"I couldn't not be with him either," Elena confessed.

"I'm sorry," Mason said, causing Elena to cock her head questioningly. "I'm sorry I had to send him away."

"I'm sorry I let you," Elena replied, feeling like they had reached a place where she could be frank with him.

"This doesn't change anything," Mason stated, his voice calm but firm.

"What do you mean?" Elena questioned.

"I mean you still can't see him."

Elena stared at her husband in shock for a second before she was able to speak again. "What?" she asked, disbelief audible in her voice.

"I need you to be my wife. I need you by my side. None of this can get out."

"That's ridiculous, Mason. You want us both to be unhappy so you can uphold an antiquated image of morality?"

"I don't have a choice. My mother would disown me. I would lose clients." Elena saw fear etched on her husband's face.

"No you wouldn't. People don't care about sexual orientation anymore," she tried to calm him.

She could see that Mason was struggling. He had admitted to loving Elijah Mikaelson but had not accepted the label that people would likely slap on him because of it.

"This is still the South, Elena," he spat, jumping up from the canapé, pacing, fueled by new unrest.

"It's not the South our parents grew up in," she argued back.

"But most of my clients are still from that South. I can't risk it."

"Have faith in the people around you," Elena pleaded. "No one will turn their back on you because of who you love."

Mason stopped pacing for a second and stood still, in the middle of the room, pressing his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger like her words were causing him a headache. "This is not a discussion, Elena. You will not see him again. You will be my wife. That's final."

There was a silence, a pause in which the couple stared at each other, a noiseless battle of wills, in which neither seemed willing to capitulate. "No," Elena finally said, resolve in her voice.

"Excuse me?" Mason asked, turning menacingly towards her, lowering his head slightly to glower up at her intimidatingly.

Elena took a deep breath, calming herself down before she spoke again, her voice even. "I can be your wife. I can live in your mansion and manage the household and answer the phone. I can go to all the charity events you want me to go to, I can dress up and smile and take pictures with you. I can pose for all the holiday cards. I can move into the guestroom and stay out of the main wing when Mr. Mikaelson comes over. I can do that. But I can't not see him, Mason."

"That's unacceptable," Mason stated flatly.

"I'm not asking for your acceptance," Elena returned determinedly. "The reason why I let Damon go was because I felt guilty and because I thought it was what's best for Jenna and Jeremy. But in reality it was what put them in harm's way. No matter what you think of him, they would be here right now if you hadn't sent him away. I'm sure of it. And I'm also sure that he could help us find them now. So I'm going to see him, whether you like it or not. Because I need his help. And because I love him. And because I no longer feel guilty about it." She looked up at her husband, towering over her, his jaw clenched tightly, his breathing ragged as he tried to stay calm.

"You can't go," Mason said, his voice shaking and barely above a whisper. "You have to stay. You have to be my wife!" He underlined his last statement by stabbing his pointed index finger furiously towards the ground. "I need you to be my wife!" he half demanded, half pleaded, panic tightening his vocal chords.

"Mason, I'll come back," she explained. "I'm going to see Damon and then we'll come back here. He can help us"

"He won't want you back now," he pressed out, his eyes flicking back and forth between hers anxiously, scanning her, wanting to anticipate her reaction.

Pain ripped through her at the thought. He could be right. It was possible that she had hurt Damon too much, that he wouldn't be able to forgive her. With a deep breath, she exiled those thoughts from her mind. It was a risk she had to take.

"Mason," she began, taking his hand into hers. "I know you're afraid and you think you're protecting yourself. But you don't need to hurt me anymore. I want for you to be happy, Mason. I do. I want for you to get everything that you want. But not like this. Not by lying to ourselves. Not by hurting the people we love. Not by gambling with our children's safety out of pride. Don't you see that we are much stronger when we work together – as a team? You can either trust me and help me, or you can hate me. But you can't stop me."

Without waiting for another reply, Elena turned around and left the study, leaving behind a shell-shocked Mason. He had never seen his wife like this. So self-assured and determined. And he wondered when she had turned into the woman walking away from him now, regretting that he hadn't been able to be the man to ignite that strength in her.

Outside, Mr. Mikaelson, who had been nervously pacing in the lobby, stopped in his tracks and turned towards the opening door, trying to assess what had happened inside that room by studying Elena's face.

"Mr. Mikaelson," Elena said, more because she hadn't expected to run into him again than because she wanted to strike up a conversation.

"Mrs. Lockwood," he returned, taking a tentative step towards her. "I know there is nothing I can say, but I want to apologize for…"

"It's fine," Elena interrupted with a polite smile. "Quite the mess we all find ourselves in, isn't it?" she asked, hoping to sound reassuring.

"Yes, quite," he agreed.

"It'll take some time to sort it all out," she continued. "But I hope we'll get to be friends in the process."

She noticed a short twitch of surprise in his jaw, a slight leaning back motion in his posture, an inquisitive gleam in his eyes that wanted to make sure her offer was sincere. "I'd like that," he agreed, extending his hand to shake hers. Elena took it and squeezed it quickly, accompanying the gesture with a small smile.

"Then you must call me Elena," she insisted.

A wider smile spread across his face. "Elijah," he returned.

With a last squeeze Elena let go of his hand before walking past him and out of the house.

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><p>Thirty minutes later, Elena stood in front of a different house, wanting to go in instead of leaving, her heart filled with questions instead of resolve. She was trying to calm her frantic heartbeat, her racing thoughts, her crippling fear. With a shaky hand she rang the doorbell, fighting every muscle in her body that, collectively, wanted to flee. Then the door was flung open suddenly and he was standing before her, looking surprised at first and then dumbstruck, staring at her with wide eyes.<p>

"Hi, Damon," she said quietly, needing all her strength to get words out of her mouth.

"Hi," he returned, otherwise still unable to speak or move.

Elena's skin was crawling with a million ants. It felt like a lifetime since she had seen him, even though it had really only been a few hours – the looming possibility of never seeing him again stretching each minute into a possible eternity. And now that he was here, standing before her, his breathtaking eyes boring into hers and asking a million questions she wished she could sweep away and wrap him into an embrace instead, her skin was on fire with the need to touch him, as if physical closeness could bridge the chasm she had torn between them when she told him to leave.

While she was still trying to figure out what she could possibly say, discarding all her carefully worded speeches because now none of them did justice to what she needed him to know, he suddenly let go of the door, and with one quick step closed the distance between them and pulled her tightly against himself, closing his arms around her and letting her bury her face in the crook of his neck.

While this day without him had been excruciating, she only now realized how much she had really missed him. She couldn't wrap her head around the idea that she had believed for even a second that she would be able to let him go. His arms holding her fast and his smell surrounding her enveloped her in a sense of safety she hadn't been able to imagine feeling mere minutes ago. Too frazzled had her thoughts been, too permeated were they with fear for her children. And while nothing about their situation had changed, the mere fact that Damon was here, holding her, allowed her to give in to the hope that everything would be okay.

"I'm so sorry about Jenna and Jeremy," he said quietly into her hair.

Elena felt tears start to well up in her eyes and threaten to drop onto the skin of his shoulder that she was pressing her face against. She wouldn't have blamed him for hating her, knew that she had given him enough reason to never want to speak with her again. The fact that he was still willing to be there for her and share her grief reconfirmed what she had already known – that she hadn't known what love was before she met him.

"Please tell me you have news," he added.

"They asked for a ransom, that's all," Elena replied, her arms clutching him to her, never wanting to let go, wanting to draw the strength she needed from him. "Please don't hate me," she finally asked in a small voice.

"I don't hate you, Elena," he replied, his tone tired. "I could never hate you. I hated that you said you made a mistake."

"I know," Elena agreed, still unwilling to let him go. "I hated that, too."

"Why are you here, Elena," he asked, carefully pulling away from her. She felt the loss acutely, missed the warmth that seeped from his skin into hers, missed his smell that had enveloped her and made her feel safe. "Do you want me to try and help find Jenna and Jeremy?" he suggested when she didn't answer.

"Yes," she replied gratefully. "But I also just… want you… period," she added, holding her breath, waiting for an answer.

"Elena," he began warily, reluctantly taking a small step back to create some distance.

"Please," she interrupted him, not able to bear listening to him rejecting her. "I know I messed up. I know I said I made a mistake and that it hurt you. And I'm so sorry. I was stupid. I felt guilty. But not because I regretted what happened. I felt guilty because I didn't regret it. I couldn't. Not for a single second. I…" she took a deep breath to work up the courage she needed. "I love you."

For a second the two of them stood quietly on Damon's doorstep, not talking. Now that she had said it, Elena felt elation run through her. It didn't matter what his reply would be. She had been sure of her feelings but it wasn't until now that she had been brave enough to voice them and it was liberating.

"You can never take that back," Damon said gruffly, his voice raw, his eyes fiery as the glared at her. "If you say this, I will not let you call it a mistake again," he clarified.

"I would never!" she assured him, her heart beating in her chest.

"Next time, I'm not walking away," he continued, needing for her to be sure about what she was saying.

"I won't let you," she agreed. "I don't know how I ever thought I could get through a single day without you." She stared up at him, waiting for him to do something, anything. "Damon," she finally said when he didn't move, lifting her hand to his shoulder to pull herself up on her toes, wanting to be at eye level with him. "I love you," she whispered, willing him with her eyes to accept it.

And suddenly she was jerked towards him by his hand that grabbed her neck and pulled her into a kiss, his lips burning against hers, and it was all she could do not to fall as he pulled her into the house swiftly before slamming the door shut behind her and then pushing her up against it, his whole body pressed against the length of hers.

Elena's head was spinning when suddenly he pulled away and cool air hit her heated lips. She opened her heavy lids, and blinked dazedly up at him, afraid he might have changed his mind. When she could see clearly, she was met by his piercing eyes, watching her intently. He lifted his right hand, and let the pad of his thumb glide across her cheek lightly.

"I love you more," he said with a cheeky smirk.

"I don't think that's possible," she replied breathlessly. And the seriousness in her voice made him chuckle lightly before he leaned in again to claim her lips.

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><p><em><strong>AN: Dying to know what you think! xoxo**_


	18. Chapter 18

_A/N: Ha! Bet you didn't expect an update this fast ;) It's a bit shorter but I'm not sure I'll have time to work on this in the weeks to come, so I decided to publish what I have so far.  
>Also, I was so excited to hear from everyone! Thank you all so much for speaking to me :) It always makes my day! And I'm glad I could surprise most of you a little :) Hope I can keep the surprises coming. Like in this one ;) Here we go! Enjoy!<em>

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><p><strong>The eighteenth chapter, which includes some arresting developments<strong>

Not even twenty minutes later, they arrived back at Elijah's town house. Damon, aggravated by the chauffeur's careful driving, had banished him to the back seat, taking the wheel himself and making the trip in record time. Elena was nervous about returning and was craving more time alone with Damon, but neither of them had been willing to lose any more time in the search for Jenna and Jeremy.

When they entered the living room turned command center, all heads turned into their direction. How much did they know, or at least suspect, Elena wondered. Mason had never given an official reason for letting Damon go so abruptly and if he had given one for hiring him back, it probably hadn't been the truth. But their somewhat public fight upon the news of their children's disappearance could have sparked the officers' imagination and she was sure that gossip traveled fast. For now, however, Elena couldn't bring herself to care what anyone thought of her. All she cared about was finding Jenna and Jeremy.

Captain Grant, a short, stocky man with perpetually angrily flared nostrils broke free from the group that included several worried looking policemen and Bonnie, all huddled around a map on the coffee table, and walked towards them with quick, choppy steps. "Mr. Salvatore," the man in charge greeted enthusiastically. "So good to have you back." He stretched out a meaty hand for Damon to shake. "I trust your family crisis has been averted and everyone is well?"

Damon shook the proffered hand and shot a quick glance towards Mason, wondering how exactly he had explained his absence. His eyes were met by a displeased glare from Elena's husband who was standing by the window, Elijah by his side but at an inconspicuous distance, the two men talking in hushed tones. Everyone else was too preoccupied to notice the cold exchange.

"Yes. Thank you for your concern," Damon simply replied, wanting to move past the lie as quickly as possible. "Is everyone else safe?" He questioned, dropping the detective's hand and switching into professional mode. "Miss Forbes? Your family? Where are Mrs. Vicky and Mr. Tyler and what about your parents?" he asked, turning towards Mason.

Elena had told quickly told Damon about her husband's extra-marital affair in the car, but the fact that she hadn't been the first to abandon their holy bond didn't seem to stop Mason from hating Damon's guts. To say Damon had been surprised was an understatement. But if Elena had needed the push to feel absolved of her guilt towards her husband, Damon didn't care about anything but the fact that it had resulted in her standing on his doorstep. He was also curious to meet the man who had been able to capture his rival's heart. He assumed that it was the well-clothed gentleman to Mason's right. Even though this was his house, he regarded the scene like a bystander, intently observing the goings on through eyes that seemed filled with an almost otherworldly intelligence and wisdom. His hair was coiffed impeccably, his suit seemed to withstand wrinkles and his posture was exemplary, his broad back straight, his shoulders turned backwards. Their eyes met and Damon could tell that the other man was regarding him with the same curiosity.

By now Mason had swallowed down the anger that had been visible on his face and was, accepting that their best option for now was to work together and having taken a calming breath, able to respond: "Miss Forbes is still at the hospital. As is agent Roberts. Two agents are outside their room. My brother and his wife luckily left for Europe to go on a second honeymoon so we assume that they aren't in any danger. My parents' residence is being watched by a patrol car but so far everything's quiet. Most likely, the kidnappers are waiting on their money now, so we doubt anyone else is in any actual danger."

Damon nodded, stowing away all the new information. "Mrs. Lockwood told me that the kidnappers made contact to demand a ransom?" he further inquired.

"Yes. They called around 10 pm, demanding ten million dollars. They will call back the same time tonight with further instructions."

"Any leads?" Damon questioned, directing his attention back to Captain Grant.

"We have been able to locate the cell tower that picked up the caller's cell phone signal. It's located in New Jersey, just out of New Brunswick. Local forces are investigating but nothing so far. We have to assume that they made the call en route to Canada. Border patrol has been alerted."

"At what time were Jenna and Jeremy taken?" Damon asked, wheels obviously turning in his head.

"Anywhere between 10am and 2pm," the detective replied.

"And the call was at 10pm?" Damon recapped. "That's an awful long time to get from here to Brunswick."

"What are you saying?" Captain Grant questioned.

"I'm saying if they're trying to get to Canada as quickly as possible, why did it take them ten hours to take a five-hour drive. My guess would be that they're either staying somewhere near the location they called from or, more likely, they went somewhere else entirely and then drove a long way to make us look in the wrong place."

"Well, it's the only lead we have for the moment, so we're going with it," Mason stated, annoyance obvious in his voice.

Damon took a deep breath, not wanting to be dragged into a pissing contest. "Where are we on suspects?" he asked instead.

"Nothing concrete," the detective admitted angrily.

"Really?" Damon asked, surprised. "A businessman like you surely must have made some enemies along his climb to the top," he continued.

"You know, one man does come to mind," Mason pressed out, glaring at Damon menacingly who received it with an accepting smile.

"Mason," Elijah's voice suddenly called from behind their backs. "What we talked about the other day…" Elena looked up and saw the reluctance in her husband's eyes at Elijah's words. "You don't have to…" Elijah began, but then reconsidered his words. "You should look into it."

"Look into what?" Captain Grant asked gruffly, annoyed that apparently potentially vital information had been withheld from him.

"It's nothing," Mason waved off the question. "It's an idle threat by an overzealous business partner."

"Who?" the detective asked, growing impatient.

"Klaus Mikaelson," Mason relented, carefully gauging Elijah's reaction.

Elena's eyes shot up. She remembered that name. Not only because it was the same as Elijah's but because she remembered her husband telling her something about the troubles he was having with the Mikaelson brothers a few weeks back. They had just arrived at the beach house and Elena had been too preoccupied to listen to him. She now wished she had paid better attention.

"Your brother?" Damon asked, turning towards Elijah.

"Yes," he admitted uncomfortably. "My brothers Klaus and Kol were speculating that the city would expand westward and bought land there. They had an agreement with Mason that he would invest heavily, building new headquarters there and pulling the rest of Mystic Falls' industrial heavyweights with him. I had lobbied against the development. A lot of this region's drinking water stems from springs there and industrial development would be catastrophic, not only for the environment but also for our health. Because I'm their brother and because I may have a lot of political weight but zero influence on the economic players in this town, they let me. But about three months ago I convinced Mason to pull out of the deal. Now the whole project is in jeopardy."

"And they've made threats to you?" Captain Grant questioned Mason.

"Yes," he conceded. "Nothing concrete. Just the usual. That I would be sorry if I didn't go through with the development as planned. It's not the first time a business partner has been unhappy and resorted to attempts at intimidation. Tyler and I didn't believe they would actually act upon it."

"Where are your brothers now?" Grant asked of Elijah.

"At a conference," he replied, his face taut. "In New York."

The detective's head snapped up. "You should have informed us of this sooner," he stated icily, before turning to his men and barking instructions at them.

Damon touched Elena's arm lightly to get her attention. "I have to make a few calls," he stated quietly, his eyes distracted. "I'll be back in a little bit." Elena nodded, wondering what he was up to. With a quick look at Bonnie and a furtive wave of the head telling her to follow him, Damon left the room, his friend in tow.

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><p>Two hours had passed and Elena was getting restless. Damon hadn't returned and the police were in another room, in a conference call with their colleagues in New York. Elijah stood by the window, pensively looking out onto his back yard, while Mason was sitting on the couch, going over files and answering mails on his blackberry. Elena decided to leave her husband to his work and talk to his lover instead, curious to find out what kind of person could make her husband abandon his convictions and overcome his bigotry.<p>

"Elijah," she said softly as she came to stand by his side.

"Elena," he jumped, pulled from his thoughts. "How are you doing?"

"How are any of us doing?" she asked, looking out of the window, not wanting to think too much about how she was doing.

"You make a good point," he replied with a soft smile.

"So that's how it happened?" she asked, abruptly, needing to get the question out before she lost the courage to do so. Elijah turned his head questioningly. "You lobbied my husband and the two of you fell in love?"

Elijah looked uncomfortable, eyeing her warily, unsure of how openly he could speak, but the genuine smile on Elena's face reassured him enough to open up.

"Yes," he replied. "When we met at my brothers' Christmas party, I realized that a big portion of the project depended on his participation. I knew I had to convince him to drop out. I invited him to dinner to talk about the repercussions of the development. I think he only went as a favor to the Senator, who is a dear friend of mine. It wasn't supposed to be a date."

"But it turned into one?" Elena asked, genuinely curious.

"Not for him, I don't think," Elijah replied abashedly. "But I was… intrigued. We stopped talking about water halfway through the appetizer." A smile rushed across his face at the memory and Elena couldn't help but smile as well. "By the end of dinner we hadn't covered any of the points I'd wanted to go over. The toxicology reports were still in my suitcase, I hadn't even mentioned the endangered species of birds that nest in the region. Instead I knew all about Jenna's training for the spelling bee and Jeremy's obsession with Elmo. I knew about you." He threw her a sideways glance.

"I'd rather not know what he told you about me," Elena waved off. She could just imagine what her husband had said about his distant and disinterested wife. She dropped her eyes to the floor at the insults she imagined coming from Mason.

"Don't think that," Elijah said, almost chastising her. "No matter what problems you have in your marriage, I hope you don't believe he would speak ill of you."

Elena regarded him with big eyes, not sure how to respond. "You're right," she admitted. "It wouldn't be proper."

Elijah shook his head, a pained expression wrinkling his brow. "You and the kids are his family and he loves you. I went to that dinner with one thing on my mind – convincing Mason to drop out of the Westside development. After dinner there was something else that I wanted even more. I knew I had a crush but I didn't think anything of it because I was convinced that he was utterly devoted to you. I was sure that I would never get either of the things I wanted from him."

"Well, you managed to sway him eventually," Elena replied with a soft smile. "On both accounts."

"And I was completely surprised both times," Elijah explained. "Mason isn't a man who lets others change his mind or who goes against his convictions."

"There are things that are stronger than convictions," Elena remarked. Elijah dropped his gaze to the window sill uncomfortably. "I'm sorry," Elena apologized. "Is it awkward to have this conversation?"

"Very," Elijah acquiesced with a nervous smile, causing Elena to blush slightly at her own audacity. "But it's okay. I'm glad we could have it. You're an impressive woman, Elena."

She shook her head sadly. "I'm not being the bigger person here. If this had happened a year ago, I would have been devastated."

"Because you still loved him then?" Elijah asked.

"I'll always love him," Elena replied warmly. "Not the way he deserves to be loved but still. He has become a part of me. He is a part of my children. When I look at them, I see him. I can't imagine my life without him in it. But a year ago I depended on him… for everything. I depended on him to keep me safe, to take care of me, to guide me through my life. I would have been devastated because without him I would have been completely lost. But I have learned to have faith in myself now. I have learned to not be afraid of the future and to not hide from the world behind my husband. I still need him. To be my friend. But I want for him to be happy more than I need for him to take care of me. He deserves to be happy. He never was, with me. Not really. It was always about expectations, about obligations, I'm glad he found someone who makes him want to be happy. Instead of wanting to do what's right."

Elijah smiled, touched. "I'm not sure he can accept it," he said, throwing a furtive glance at Mason who was engrossed in seemingly endless lists of numbers.

"He'll come around," Elena reassured him warmly. "It's scary, accepting something new about yourself. After years and years, discovering that you may have been wrong about integral parts of your identity – it's terrifying. But we'll help him through it and he'll be fine. Have faith in what you have. It's stronger than his insecurities."

Elijah smiled again, grateful and impressed. No matter what this woman said, a lesser person would have taken the situation as an insult, a betrayal. He wasn't sure where she took the strength from to withstand the temptation of self-doubt, of jealousy and of blaming him and he could only assume, from what Mason and Elena herself had told him, that her relationship with Damon Salvatore had a lot to do with it and it made him intensely curious to properly meet this man whom he had only seen ask a few questions and leave again.

He saw a shadow rush across Elena's face then, a sudden look of discomfort that made her avert her gaze.

"What is it?" he asked, surprised by her change in mood.

"Do you…" she began, nervously picking at some loose skin around her thumb nail, "do you really think your brothers capable of taking my children?" she asked.

Elijah heaved a heavy sigh. "I didn't think them capable of knowingly poisoning our drinking water. But here we are." He looked sad. Elena felt for him. She could relate to being stunned and terrified by what your own family was capable of.

At that very moment the door burst open and Captain Grant stormed into the room. "Klaus and Kol Mikaelson have been apprehended," he informed them hastily.

Elena rushed towards him. "What about Jenna and Jeremy?" Hope was coursing through her, turning into excess energy, making her fear her chest might burst.

"No news on them yet," the detective informed them, regret in his voice. We apprehended the suspects at their hotel. But we are just waiting on the chopper then we'll be on our way to New York to question them. You're welcome to join us, if you want to," he offered.

Mason immediately sprang to his feet. "Of course we want to come," he announced, discarding all the work he had previously been engrossed in.

"One thing before we get going," Captain Grant interjected. "This information needs to stay in this room. We have to assume that the brothers aren't working alone and judging from the information they've acted upon, we have to assume that they have a source on the inside."

A frisson ran through Elena. Who close to her could be so cruel as to feed her children's kidnappers information? Her eyes involuntarily shot towards Elijah. He was the most probably source but she simply couldn't bring herself to believe he was involved. He seemed too genuine, too feeling. Quickly she forced her eyes to move away so as to not give away her instant and unconscious accusation. They met Mason's that were glaring at her angrily.

"Where is Damon Salvatore?" he questioned icily, his eyes boring into hers.

Elena's face turned stoic. She resented the underlying allegation. The question itself, however, putting aside the hostile undertone, was a good one. Where was Damon?

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><p><em><strong>AN: Happy TVD Thursday my loves! Have a great one!**_


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Wow. So sorry for the long wait! And I haven't even been able to reply to reviews for the last chapter. Seriously, I feel awful! I moved, I quit my job, I turned a decade older, stuff you know. But I'll be better about updating now. Pinky promise! So, since we're on a TVD break, maybe this'll help tide you over a little :) Happy Sunday everyone! Wishing y'all sunshine and happy times 3**

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><p><strong>The nineteenth chapter, in which unconditional trust turns out to have been abused<strong>

Elena didn't have to wonder for long. In that instant the door was pushed open and Damon walked in, followed by Bonnie.

"Damon," Elena exclaimed in relief. "We have to go. The…"

"Elena, don't!" Mason instructed from behind her.

Elena spun around, ready to tell her husband off for his ridiculous insinuations, when she was stopped by Damon's calming hand on her arm. "I'm assuming the Mikaelson brothers have been apprehended and you want to go to New York?" he asked of Mason, making Elena marvel at his ability to stay calm in the face of so much unwarranted hostility.

"I ask that you stay out of this," Mason returned coldly.

"New York's a dead-end," Damon returned matter-of-factly. "You're wasting your time."

"And what has brought you that epiphany?" Mason spat mockingly.

"Who told you about the elevator?" Damon questioned in return, his eyes boring into Mason's. Elena turned to look at him, confusion at his unexpected change of topic evident on her face.

"What?" Mason asked, the anger suddenly evaporating at the abrupt mention of the tryst that – in his mind – had started everything.

"Who told you about what happened in the hotel elevator?" Damon asked again.

"I told you. The hotel manager brought it to my attention," Mason replied, annoyed that the unpleasant event was being brought up again.

"I don't think so," Damon returned with a slight shake of the head. "The Plaza is a five star establishment. They know that their guests value their privacy. Things happen there all the time that would warrant to be brought to someone's attention. But they never are. Because the hotel doesn't tell you what your wife does. It knows – and then keeps it private."

"Why would they keep my wife's affair from me?" Mason questioned, enraged again, no longer pretending that their marital problems were a secret.

"Because they don't know if it's an affair. Or if you know about it. Or if you arranged it to rekindle your love life," Damon returned and Elena could see the fury rise in her husband's face. "They know that it's better to keep things quiet than to bring something to a guest's attention that might embarrass them. That's why I'm sure they wouldn't have told you unless you specifically asked them. Did you ask them?"

It was obvious that Mason was inwardly debating how to respond. "No," he finally squeezed out. "Tyler brought the pictures to me. He said that the manager had approached him."

A spark shot into Damon's eyes, almost akin to triumph. "That's what I thought," he continued eagerly. "I claim that Mr. Tyler and his wife are behind your children's disappearance."

"How dare you!" Mason exclaimed and lunged for Damon, one fist raised to strike.

Captain Grant and one of his officers immediately stepped in and held Mason back before he could reach his target. "Break it off," the detective warned, positioning himself between the two adversaries.

"Where do you come off accusing my family?" Mason fumed, pushing against the policeman's hand that was raised to restrain him, in an effort to make the point that he would still beat Damon if he was given the chance. "My brother wouldn't hurt my children."

"For their sake let's hope that's true," Damon returned.

Something tightened in Elena's gut. The mere insinuation that the only friend she had left in this world and her husband's brother might be behind the events that pained and terrified her more than even her unbearable youth had been able to, compressed her lungs to the point where she found it painful to breathe. It couldn't be true. She couldn't accept even the possibility.

"You are unbelievable. He has no motive! He owns half the company. He has enough money," Mason argued.

"Exactly," Damon agreed. "But Tyler's assets as well as yours are all tied up in Lockwood Limited. Neither of you has a lot of independent wealth. I believe that Tyler was planning on selling his half of the company. But when you pulled out of the Westside development, that half of a company lost a lot of the value it would have otherwise had."

"That doesn't mean he would resort to violence," Mason reasoned.

"Which is why he didn't at first. He hoped you would pay up before he would have to take more drastic measures. What kidnapper makes multiple threats before actually kidnapping someone? The kind that would rather not go through with it."

"It couldn't be him," Mason persisted. "He's in Italy with Vicki. They called us. The cell tower that the kidnapper called from is in New Jersey."

Elena's heart jumped. That was true. She felt herself cling to that hope, felt herself wish that her husband was right and Damon was wrong. The idea that the evil that had descended upon them originated within the family was too appalling. She had no family of her own left and had for many years been reluctant to forge new bonds. The only people she had let close had been her husband and his family, her children, and now Damon. And the idea that someone from within this tiny circle had set out to hurt her, that her trust had been grossly abused again, that she was – again – all alone, ripped open old wounds, the memory of which she had spent the last years repressing.

"Vicki called," Damon corrected.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that Vicki is in Italy and she called you from there but that Tyler didn't go with her but instead drove up to New Jersey and called you from there."

"That's ridiculous. You have no proof. And we're losing precious time with your nonsense allegations."

"Well, I have proof that no Mr. and Mrs. Lockwood ever got on any plane to Rome," Damon countered, putting down a printed-out passenger list on the coffee table. "They were booked onto a mid-morning flight out of Richmond, changing in Washington. But they never checked in." Mason stayed quiet now, agitatedly studying the paper Damon had just produced. "Here's what we conjecture," Demon continued, meaning Bonnie and himself: "Tyler and Vicki were angry about the share of the profits they lost when you backed out of the Westside development. They assumed that they would be compensated appropriately if they could anonymously extort money from you. But you proved less willing to pay up than they had assumed. Things got even more difficult when you agreed to keep your family in a secret location with live-in protection. So they needed to get rid of both. I didn't think much of it at the time, but after we arrived at the house, Vicki described the trip in enough detail to allow Tyler to find it and take the pictures which they then used to make you believe that your family wasn't safe. The second step was causing a security risk – by getting rid of me and disrupting the chain of protection."

"You got rid of yourself, pal," Mason interjected under his breath.

"And I take full responsibility for my actions," Damon returned, his jaw ticking. "But I know what Vicki implied on several occasions while talking to me and I wouldn't be surprised if she implied something similar to Elena."

Elena thought back to the talks she'd had with her sister in law, the suggestive remarks, the hints and the winks. She had fallen for Damon all on her own but it was true that Vicki had helped to – if not plant – at least water the seed, had been permissive and even supportive of the idea even before it had formed in Elena's head. She found it hard to believe that her friend would be able to be so calculating, however.

"That's leaving a lot to chance," Mason argued.

"Not necessarily," Damon returned. "If their plan hadn't panned out, the mere suggestion of something going on might have been enough to get me fired."

"You were already asking questions about the picture that showed us during our self-defense workout," Elena added. "Nothing had happened then."

Mason's shoulders dropped slightly. "Tyler was the one who asked me if I didn't think it looked a little too cozy."

"Tyler knew when he got the pictures from hotel security that I would be gone as soon as he handed them to you. I bet that he had instructed the hotel manager to come to him with anything unusual regarding your family or your security. I am almost certain that he was therefore informed immediately and thus knew about the incident the night before he told you. They quickly booked a flight and made hotel reservations so that the simultaneity of the children's disappearance and their leaving would appear like a coincidence instead of a reaction. He probably told you about their planned trip either that night or early the next morning."

"He called me. Around midnight," Mason confirmed. "He was a little drunk and said they had just had the best… night of their life. They wanted to go on a second honeymoon. When he came to my office the next day to show me the pictures, he even offered to stay and support me."

"But of course you insisted he go on his trip anyways," Damon concluded, earning a defeated nod from Mason.

"He went home immediately," the latter explained. "To pack."

"And then directly to your kids' school," Damon continued his account. "He incapacitated Agent Roberts and Miss Forbes, while Vicki went to pick up the children. We assume it happened during their lunch break and they went willingly, since they knew her."

Elena felt tears start to well up in her eyes at the image of her children happily following their aunt, only to be taken away and locked up somewhere.

"But Mrs. Lockwood called from Italy. It was the hotel's phone number," Captain Grant interjected.

"I never said Vicki wasn't in Italy. Mrs. Lockwood never got on that plane from Washington to Rome. But there was a Mrs. Reagan on that flight – accompanied by her two children, Jennifer and Jared." Damon pointed to the names on the passenger list. "I haven't been able to procure surveillance footage from the airport yet. National security issues. But I assume that that is Vicki, traveling under a false name and taking your kids out of the country. And I assume that this is why the ransom demand came so late at night even though the drive up to New Brunswick is a lot shorter. Tyler dropped them off at the airport in Washington before heading north to throw us off. He knew about the threats made by the Mikaelson brothers and he set them up as the perfect scape goat."

"We have to alert authorities up there, put out an arrest warrant for Tyler," Mason sprang into action.

"I don't think Tyler's in New Jersey anymore," Damon shook his head.

"New Brunswick isn't only perfect for framing someone in New York City," Captain Grant caught onto what Damon was concluding. "It's also perfect for catching a red-eye out of Newark." Damon nodded solemnly. "And I suppose you checked the Europe-bound flights that left last night after ten pm?"

"I did. No Mr. Lockwood and no Mr. Reagan. But obviously many men traveling alone. I'm sure if we had the security footage, he'd be on it."

"We can't get the recordings from inside the airport," Captain Grant conceded. "But I'm sure we can get a warrant for the parking lot footage."

"I'm on it," one of the officers called and hurried out of the room.

"Davis," the Captain addressed another officer, standing by. "Look for alternate camera footage at both Dulles International and Newark airports – gas stations across the street, coffee shops, anything that might have had a view of Mr. and Mrs. Lockwood or the children."

The officer nodded eagerly and followed his colleague.

Damon turned slightly and, for the first time since stepping into the room, looked directly at Elena. "Are you okay?" he asked, concern in his voice and eyes. He could see how shaken she was from her wide-eyed expression and the paleness of her skin.

"Are you sure?" she asked, her voice a testament to the uncertainty she felt.

"I think it's the most logical and probable assumption," he acquiesced, unsure of how to soften the blow he was dealing.

* * *

><p>What was worse than the idea that her own family was behind her children's abduction, was what came next – the certainty. Within two hours, the police had found footage of Vicki with the kids from a car rental establishment at Dulles Airport. One of the parking lot cameras had an only slightly obstructed view of the drop-of zone in front of the international flights terminal and having calculated an approximate time-frame, it didn't take them long to spot the woman traveling with two children that hurried into the terminal just in time to catch Mrs. Reagan's flight to Rome. And despite the somewhat pixelated quality of the image, Mason and Elena had no doubt that the young girl and boy were their children and that the woman shooing them inside was their sister in law.<p>

A phone call to the hotel in Italy confirmed that Vicki, despite explicitly not having checked out, had left immediately after telephoning them the night before and that the room had not been entered since. The staff didn't know where she had gone but had been instructed to take messages that she would call in for. In the hopes of intercepting her or one of these phone calls, roman carabinieri had agreed to cooperate and were staking out the hotel as well as tapping its phones.

Elena felt sick to her stomach, while Mason seemed to react as usual, with unappeasable anger. When the phone rang at the fixed time that night, it took all of Elena's pleading looks and Elijah's calming presence to wrestle the promise from him that he would stay composed while Elena received the new instructions.

"Hello?" she answered when the room had finally fallen completely quiet and all eyes were trained on the chiming telephone, Damon's hand on her back giving her the strength she needed.

"Mrs. Lockwood," the contorted voice greeted jovially and Elena tried to make out an inflection that would confirm that it was Tyler she spoke with. She felt, for some reason, that facing the cruel reality would be more bearable than knowing of it only theoretically. But try as she might, the voice was too metallic, too tinny, too disembodied. It was not Tyler. It was the idea of him, warped by technology and fear, that made her spine shiver and her skin crawl. "How do you do?"

"Awful," she answered truthfully.

"So sorry to hear it," he replied. "I'm sure I can think of something to cheer you up."

"Let me speak to my children," she demanded but was met with a hollow, brassy laugh.

"They are well," he reassured. "Having the time of their lives. Now, about that payment."

"We want proof of life, or we won't pay," Mason interjected heatedly.

For a second it was quiet at the other end of the line, before the voice spoke again, crackling ghostly from the line. "We have given you many chances to do this the easy way. You blew every single one of them. So now we're doing it the hard way. You can either pay and hope for your children's safe return, or you can not pay and be sure that they're dead within the hour."

"You son of a bitch," Mason exclaimed, even Elijah's calming hand on his arm no longer enough to pacify him.

A low chuckle on the other end of the line made Elena's blood boil. She understood Mason, understood his anger. If she could, she would have reached through the telephone and strangled Tyler herself. "Believe me," he said, sounding mocking in his calmness. "This hurts your children more than it hurts you."

That was too much for Mason to take. "I swear to God, Tyler, if you hurt my children, I will hunt you down and kill you!"

The sudden stillness that fell over the room was in stark contrast to the heated argument that had preceded it. Elena's heart stood still as she waited for a response from the other end of the line.

"Well," the voice finally responded. "I will hang up now and let someone explain to you, brother, Why that was the dumbest thing you ever did." And with that the line went dead.

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><p><strong>Fact! Every time you review, an angel gets their wings ;)<strong>


	20. Chapter 20

_A/N: New chapter! Happy Sunday, everyone! Thanks for reading and your continued support! It's so greatly appreciated! You guys are the best!_

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><p><strong>The twentieth chapter, in which our heroine sets out on a quest<strong>

A gasp of pure terror escaped Elena's throat. Just as you are plunged into darkness and confusion by the blowing of a light bulb, your brain needing a moment to accept the new conditions surrounding you, your eyes needing a few seconds to adjust to the gloom, Elena was plunged into darkness by the disconnection of the phone line. For a moment she wasn't able to speak; her mind and her heart temporarily unable to reconcile what had been reality mere seconds ago with what was reality now. And she was in good company. The room was completely silent. No one dared to voice what needed to be voiced next.

"What did you do?" she finally asked, turning to Mason, fear almost making her inaudible.

Her husband was visibly still reeling from the shock himself, his hands grasping onto the tabletop to steady him. "Elena," he said, his eyes – full of desperation and loss – meeting hers in a plea to find comfort, forgiveness, a solution. But he was only met with endless horror and accusation.

"What did you do?" she asked again, louder, the adrenaline that was pushing through her veins pressing out of her in a yell.

"I'm sorry," he said, his face a reflection of the utter helplessness he felt. "I didn't mean…"

"You killed them, Mason!" Elena exclaimed, panic getting the better of her. "They're going to kill them because of you!" she screeched, lunging for him and letting her hands hit him – uncoordinated, wanting only to hit, not caring about the place or effect.

"Elena," Damon tried to soothe her, lightly grabbing her shoulder from behind.

Mason didn't fight back. He seemed almost to welcome the assault. "He'll call back. We'll pay," he tried to reassure himself as much as his wife.

"He won't call back, Mason," Elena sobbed, her hands still blindly flying at him. "He can't, now."

"Elena," Damon tried again, pulling on her a little more determinedly. "Elena, breathe. You need to breathe."

She was hearing his words but her body was unwilling to listen. As if acting beyond her control, it convulsed, trying to shake him off, needing to break free of his embrace, needing to just keep hitting something, as if her giving up her outburst would mean giving up on her children.

Suddenly the commotion was interrupted by the chiming of Elena's phone. She stilled instantly, all eyes jumping to the small device, hoping against hope that Tyler was calling back after all. The momentary optimism that had rushed a spike of endorphins into her blood stream, making her head spin, was immediately cut short. The caller ID showed Caroline's cell phone number. Elena's body, suddenly spent from being tossed from one extreme sensation to the next, slumped against Damon in defeat. He steadied her, pulling her into his side with one arm, answering the phone with the other.

"Now's not a good time, Caroline," he quietly spoke, while the policemen were gathering at the other end of the table and talking in hushed tones amongst themselves, obviously trying to come up with a new strategy.

"Damon, I really need to speak with Elena," Caroline replied urgently.

"Car, really, not now. Okay?"

"No, I really really need to speak with her now, Damon," Caroline insisted.

"Aren't you still in the hospital?" Damon questioned, wanting to clear his confusion as much as he wanted to protect Elena from the unnecessary phone call.

"Yes. But I really need to speak with Elena. It's important."

"Why?" Damon asked, feeling Elena shudder against him in quiet sobs.

"I can't tell you. Just please, Damon, can you hand her the phone?"

Everything inside him rebelled against the idea but the urgency in Caroline's voice made him reluctantly relinquish the phone to the woman in his arms.

"Caroline, what is it?" Elena asked tiredly, unable to bring herself to care about anything her nanny could say to her right now.

"Can you go somewhere alone?" Caroline asked nervously.

"Uhm, sure," Elena replied and unhurriedly extricated herself from Damon's arms.

"Where are you going?" he whispered, holding onto her arm.

"Just getting some air," she replied quietly before stepping outside and closing the door behind her. "What's going on?" she asked of the woman on the other end of the line.

"Elena, I have Vicki on the phone for you," Caroline announced. "She wants me to put her through to you."

"What?" Elena exclaimed but already heard the click on the line.

"Elena?" she heard her sister in law's voice, unmistakably hers, no metallic distortion.

"Vicki?" she felt her heart race uncontrollably.

"I thought we should talk, us women. The men always make such a mess of things," the other woman said calmly.

"Are my kids okay?" Elena asked hurriedly.

"They are literally having the time of their lives," Vicki reassured her in an inappropriately warm voice. "They've been lounging by the pool all day. You'll get them back perfectly tanned."

"You're giving them back?" Elena asked, trying not to let hope rise inside her but unable to keep it down and out of her voice.

"Elena," Vicki began, sounding almost rueful. "You understand that we can never come back now, right?"

"Yes you can," Elena protested. "I will speak to Mason. I will speak to the police. Nothing will happen to you. I swear. I'll do whatever you want. Anything, Vicki. Please. Anything."

"No. It's over. We can never come back," Vicki reconfirmed her previous claim. "But that's not the point, Elena. We considered the possibility that this might happen. We hoped it wouldn't, but we planned for it. The thing is, since we can't come back, you need to make this worth our while, Elena."

"What do you want?" Elena asked. "I'll pay. Anything."

"See, that's what I thought. Tyler said you'd put up a fight, but I told him you're not your husband. You know what's best for your children and you'll pay without making a fuss."

Elena felt tears crawl into her eyes and tighten her throat. "Anything," she confirmed hoarsely.

"We need the ten million, Elena. We need you to give them to us. We can't go back now."

"I don't have ten million," Elena replied desperately.

"No, but as your husband's wife you have access to certain funds," Vicki elaborated vaguely.

"I don't know how," Elena returned, becoming agitated. She wanted to do everything Vicki asked of her but she felt like she had very restrictive limits.

"We'll tell you," Vicki reassured her in an almost motherly voice. "All you have to do now is pack your bag and go to the airport. There you will retrieve an envelope left in your name at the main information. Inside you will find a fake passport, a ticket in that name and a hotel name. Take the next flight to the ticket's destination and check into the hotel of that name at the airport. You will get further instructions once you get there."

"Where?" Elena asked.

"See, Elena, we don't want anyone to know. So what you will do is not tell anyone, go to the airport and take that flight no questions asked. Got it?"

"Yes," Elena confirmed quickly, not wanting to jeopardize her children's safety any further.

The call was immediately disconnected and Elena stood in the hallway, immobilized by dread for a second. She wasn't sure she could do this. Go God knew where by herself, impersonate a stranger, face Vicki and Tyler. She felt too small and too weak. But a memory flashed into her mind, of Jenna smiling up at her with big, hopeful eyes and of Jeremy, running towards her on the beach, arms spread wide, waiting for her to catch him and scoop him up. And she realized that it didn't matter. It didn't matter how weak she was or how scared, it didn't matter how much she could do, how far she could go, she had no choice. She would have to take that flight, she would have to do what Vicki and Tyler asked of her and she would have to be strong for her kids. Being weak, being afraid, giving up, it just simply wasn't an option.

She took a resolved breath and returned to the commotion in the library. Captain Grant was on the phone with Italian police, following their progress as they raided and searched the hotel – so far to no avail.

"What's going on?" Damon asked her, his eyes inspecting her thoroughly.

"Nothing, she just…" Elena took a deep breath. She hated having to lie to him but she had no other choice. "Caroline remembered something that brought her to the conclusion that Tyler was the one who attacked her. But we already knew that, so…"

"Why did she need to speak with you and not me?" he questioned, his brow furrowed inquisitively.

"I don't know," Elena returned noncommittally, wanting this conversation to be over.

"Well what did she remember?" Damon continued. "Maybe it'll be helpful."

"No, it was just… she remembered the smell of his aftershave." Elena wasn't sure if what she was telling Damon sounded at all believable but her mind wasn't able to come with anything better at the moment. "I'm really exhausted, Damon. I'm going upstairs for a moment, okay? Can we talk about this later?"

Damon stared at her for a second, his eyes seeing right to the very core of her like they always did, but while Elena usually liked the way he could always read how she felt, it terrified her now. She was afraid that she might not be able to hide this from him. That with that one, insistent look he would discover everything she was trying to conceal. But she couldn't give up hope that she might be able to fool him just this once.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his eyes boring into hers, watching even the tiniest reaction.

"Yeah. I just need a minute," she reassured him with what she hoped was an honest looking smile. She turned around to leave, to escape his scrutiny, to pack.

"Elena," he called her softly, holding her back by her hand again. Reluctantly she turned around and faced him uncertainly. Had he seen her ruse for what it was? Would he call her out on it? "They'll be okay," he said warmly, wanting her to see the truth of his words in his eyes. "We'll get them back."

Elena nodded quietly and turned again and this time he let her go. She felt the dread squeeze her heart. He hadn't seen it in her eyes. He hadn't understood. She was as thankful as she was terrified that she was, after all, all on her own.

* * *

><p>Ten minutes later she climbed out the guest room window, her cell phone and charger in her purse, assuring her continued reachability. Anything else she could buy once she got to where she was going. The key thing right now was to move, to make some kind of progress, to somehow get closer to getting her children back. She had only waited long enough to make sure no one was coming to check up on her. She had waited for the patrolling guards to move around the corner and then used the two minute window she had calculated and dashed across the short slab of neatly manicured lawn before she disappeared through the tall but sparse hedges surrounding the property. Once out on the road, she hurried to get out of eyesight of the house and then hailed a cab, promising the driver an extra big tip if he got her to the airport in under forty-five minutes.<p>

As promised, an envelope was waiting for her at the main information. The clerk handed it to her with a bright smile that aimed to help and to please, not knowing what the small package contained, not understanding what the delivery of it signified. Elena hurried towards the bathroom, not wanting to be surrounded by passing glances that might catch a wandering glimpse of what she had just been given. With shaking hands she locked the stall door behind her and ripped open the inconspicuous envelope. There it was. A fake passport that showed her picture, smiling; the same picture she had used for her real passport that was lying in a drawer in her abandoned mansion. Her picture, her birth date, but a different name – Nina Sommers. She stared at it for a second. Who was Nina Sommers? It didn't matter, she finally decided. Right now Nina Sommers was the woman that was going to save her children. She tucked the Passport into her purse and pulled the airline document from the packet. It was a voucher, valid for a one-way-flight – any time – to Paris.

* * *

><p>Elena was sitting in her seat, staring out the window, dusk already starting to settle outside. She'd had to turn off her phone now, but she had been ignoring it for a while, not answering any of the uncountable calls from her husband. They knew she was gone. Damon had probably figured out why and that was why he wasn't calling her. He understood that she wasn't snubbing her husband but doing what needed to be done. She wished she could call him, wanted badly to ask him for help, but she couldn't.<p>

She was on her own. And she had never felt more desperately alone in her life. Not when she had been hiding under her covers as a child, praying the foot steps outside her door would just keep going, not when she had run away from yet another new family, not when she had watched her children play from afar, unable to work up the courage to walk over and join them. In all those instances, the only thing she stood to lose was yet another piece of herself. Now was different. She had built a life now, a life that she loved, filled with people she loved and filled with people who, inexplicably, loved her back, and she stood to lose all of it. And the only person she could turn to in order to fix it was herself. Therein lay her utter loneliness. She was the only one with the power to save everything she cared about and she wasn't sure she was strong enough to do it.

"I thought we weren't leaving each other anymore," she suddenly heard a voice behind her, causing her to whip around in her seat. She was met with striking blue eyes, belonging to the man who had just taken the seat next to her.

"Damon, what…" she began to question, frantically looking around the plane to see if her husband or the police were there as well.

"Don't worry, it's just me," he reassured her.

"You can't be here. They said to come alone," Elena exclaimed, panic rising up inside her. How was he here? How had he found her? What would happen if Tyler and Vicki found out?

"They'll never know I'm here," he replied calmly.

"How can you be sure?" she asked, her mind still racing through possible scenarios. "What if they're watching me?"

"They're not," he reassured her. "I checked with the woman at the information. Your envelope was delivered there by bike messenger the same day Vicki and Tyler left. I also checked the photos of us on the beach. They were all taken on the same day. And Tyler was away for a supposed business meeting on that day. No one was watching us. Tyler came and took the photos. They're rich and they're well equipped and incredibly prepared, but they're on their own, Elena."

She was still uncertain but she was also tempted to give into the relief she felt at seeing him. "How did you find me?" she asked.

"Caroline sounded so upset on the phone. And you're just a really awful liar," he explained with a raised eyebrow. "The minute you walked back into the room, I knew something was wrong. Your questionable explanation only convinced me more that you were up to something."

Elena's eyes dropped to her hands. He had seen right through her after all. She hadn't been able to fool him for even a second. He had known, he had understood and now he was here.

"I saw you leave through the back window. I didn't want to follow you, just in case. But your phone is traceable. Mason and the police agreed that he would stay to keep up appearances and that he would call you in case they somehow hacked into the system. But we all agreed that I would go with you."

Elena finally allowed the sense of safety that always enveloped her when he was around to soothe her frazzled nerves. "I'm glad you're here," she admitted.

"I wasn't going to let you go through this alone," he answered, pulling her to him gently and pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

"They can't know you're with me," Elena replied, panic grabbing at her heart again.

"I know," he confirmed with a reassuring nod. "I will let you do everything by yourself. But I won't let you be alone."

A small, grateful smile rushed across Elena's face. How did he know? How did he always understand? "Thank you," she said, pulling him close again and kissing him once more, gathering strength from the mere fact that he was here, that she wasn't alone after all. Maybe she would be able to do this. Maybe his support and his faith in her would be enough to give her strength she needed to save her children.

* * *

><p><em>AN: With the last chapter I reached 400 reviews for this fic, which absolutely blew my mind. Thank you guys so so much for sharing your thoughts with me. It's what inspires me and keeps me going. Group hug! xoxo_


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